I'm not good at making complicated things simple to explain. Rather, I'm much better at making simple things complicated to explain. Perhaps this is why I'm arguably a better poet than a philosopher, or a better philosopher than a poet. As I have so far failed to explain, this post may be somewhat confusing -- but if you could bear with me for a few moments, I promise that it will make sense!
In the Gospels of the Bible, Pontius Pilate asked an eternal question to Jesus: "What is truth?" This is the very question I am confronting today.
A professor of mine once asserted that all philosophical and religious discussions are like the artwork of the sculptor Alexander Calder. I realize you may not be familiar with this artist, so here's an example or two of his work -- which I hope you will examine closely, for within the nature of his art lies a key point about the nature of truth.
To claim that something is true is an action of the human observer, requiring the use of the human mind and the use of communication. In this way, the act of defining truth depends on the person who gives you their own definition of truth. Every truth claim depends on a variety of assumptions and preexisting beliefs. In an Alexander Calder sculpture, each piece in the sculpture is connected to the piece before it - each piece of the artwork is dependent on the other pieces which it rests upon. So, truth is like a sculpture which contains an entire chain of pieces -- with all of the pieces depending on the piece attached to them to maintain their form.
Because the human interpretation of truth depends upon other conditions, it is difficult to state with certainty what is true. This problem may seem obvious, but the problem has quite a few ramifications for ideas in philosophy and religion which may not be so obvious at first.
In the past, when I attended a discussion group with a friend of mine and his pastor, I gained the opportunity to hear their perspectives on Christianity. Both of them are evangelical Christians, and while they don't speak for all evangelical Christians, they do seem to represent some widespread views. When we were discussing the resurrection of Jesus, the pastor kept pressing me as to why I did not accept the truth of Jesus's resurrection.
The truth? I do accept the truth of Jesus's resurrection...in one sense. I accept that the story is relevant, that the story has positive and inspiring qualities, that the story helps people live a better life. I do not believe the account of the resurrection of Jesus is literally true. That I do not literally accept the resurrection story of Jesus bothered my friend's pastor to no small end. The pastor kept trying and trying to goad me to accept the absolute, literal truth of this event, for which I believe there is no definitive evidence.
And then...I start to wonder why I want evidence for the story of the resurrection of Jesus. When I was talking to my girlfriend (who is a more liberal Christian) about my conversations with my evangelical friend, she asked me why I wanted evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. She stumped me.
After talking for far too long (to avoid my consternation), I realized that I didn't really need any evidence for the resurrection of Jesus...in a sense. I told my girlfriend that I asked for evidence of Jesus's resurrection because my friend and his pastor sought to convince me of the "Capital T" Truth of the resurrection. What's the difference between "Capital T" Truth and other truth? "Capital T" Truth is empirical, requires evidence, and is absolute and rational. There are other truths which are symbolic, mystical, and full of mystery...full of, faith.
I'm not against mystery. As Carl Sagan said, when I contemplate that I am a conscious being, living in a Universe so vast and so sparsely populated (as far as we can tell) with beings like us, beings that are self-aware, I feel an ecstasy and a sense of wonder akin to religious feelings. I do not deny these feelings, as so many religious people I know may assume - as I am asked how I can witness the beauty of our world and not believe there is something more there. On the contrary, I do feel that there is something more there, but I don't call that something "God". What tickles me, though, is whether these feelings are really truth? And why should I believe certain feelings and not others?
Why should I follow one religious path or another? Why should I put one label on my feelings of awe and mystery and not another label? On the basis of feeling, most of the world's religions appear roughly indistinguishable to me - not equivalent, but indistinguishable. I'm not naive enough to paper over the vast differences between religious traditions. What bothers me is how I am supposed to know which one is for me, if any of them are for me - and do I trust my feelings enough to leave them in charge of my choice?
My evangelical friends try to tell me that their god is the author of "Capital T" Truth, that his son Jesus died for my sins - and that there is "Capital T" Truth-friendly evidence which can demonstrate this to my satisfaction - or so they claim. Really, to believe their claim I have to first accept the validity of the Gospel writings, and the letters of Paul, and the Old Testament, and...eventually, it just turns out to be another Alexander Calder special. There are so many claims I have to accept before I can accept the last claim I've heard that I can never sufficiently unravel the truth.
Where does all of this speculation leave me? It leaves me where I started, asking "what is truth?", just as Pilate must have asked all those years ago. I still do not accept any one religion as my own, because I am fine with my secular morality and secular mystery. If someone wants to convince me to join another religion, they'll have to wait. I have my own feelings and my own mind to sort through first. I'm going to try to discern the truth as well as I can, and if religion seems to hinder that search for truth, then I will proceed without it. I'm not convinced that any religion has the "Capital T" Truth, and if I don't need that kind of truth, then I'm not convinced that I need religion, either. Why put a label on something that belongs to all of us?
I've stuck with one kind of faith or another plenty of times, but I can't say that it's the world's only truth, and I'm not even sure that it's true at all. It's just what I have...or don't have. Faith is like life: it will find a way to thrive even in the darkest, harshest, or most obscure places. You can call it all sorts of things depending on where you find it, but it's really the same thing. Despite all the superficial differences and confusing trappings, truth (based on faith) is the same everywhere - it just appears in a surprising number of ways. It's not relative, either - it's just really complicated and hopelessly messy. There may be greater and lesser truths, more closely or loosely matching your assumptions, even if there's no one "Capital T" Truth - and some assumptions are so monumental and so broad that, in practice, they are almost the same thing as what we would call "objectivity".
As I said at the beginning, I have a knack for making the simple to be hard, and the hard to be simple. For those who are wondering what the most direct point of this may be, I say this: because truth can only be assessed according to your own perspective, it is the duty of every person to investigate what is true. If each individual pursues truth as well as he or she can, we may never have the "Capital T" Truth many of us seek, but we will have more truth than we have ever had before, and that truth will set us free -- as Jesus could have said to Pilate.
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Showing posts with label religion. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Simplicity Followed By Awe
"Things used to be simple. There was one universe, and our galaxy was one among billions within it."
This is the first sentence from Marcelo Gleiser's column on NPR entitled "Multiverse Metaphysics".
If only things were simple! To understand that our planet lies in a solar system situated in a galaxy with more solar systems alone than we can imagine, and then - that there are billions of galaxies in our Universe...is this so simple after all? I think about the controversies surrounding Galileo and Kepler in their day, wondering what scientific discoveries will ascend from heresy to simplicity in the next 500 years?
I think about Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" TV series. I think about his wonder and fascination toward the magnificent intricacies of nature. A realization strikes me - awe is far more important than simplicity. I must resist simplicity.
A few days ago, I posted a column by Adam Frank of NPR on Facebook explaining how poetry can reconcile science and the sacred. Frank's column argues powerfully that science is a direct route to experiencing the sacred. This sacred awe is vitally important for the vitality of human life.
Because of its essential role in creating meaning for our lives, awe is fundamental to our shared humanity. To feel awe can be more important than understanding. Further, awe undermines understanding - to engage in awe is to admit a lack of understanding and to admit new possibilities amidst a mysterious unknown. One of my friends on Facebook, after I posted Frank's article on science and the sacred, complimented me for recognizing - as a non-religious person - that science and the sacred are compatible.
I have struggled to respond to that compliment, because I cannot accept it wholeheartedly. While I agree with my friend that science and the sacred are compatible, I do not agree that science and religion are necessarily compatible. There is a stark difference between the religion of awe and mystery, and the religion of simplicity and understanding. I believe that the first kind of religion is entirely compatible with science, but that the second kind of religion hopelessly distorts and undermines science.
To be fair, I also believe that the nonreligious can abuse excessive certainty - that a fundamentalist confidence in one's own understanding is just as dangerous to science as religious dogma. Any kind of strict adherence to simplicity annihilates both true science and true spirituality.
All too often, organized religion asserts a monopoly on fact and truth - while it asserts that there is only one way to live - and asserts that the course of existence is pre-determined and set by divine law. Science asserts, by searching for answers, that the world is unknown to it - while evolutionary theory demonstrates compellingly that life is a flowing and diverse tide, responding in different ways to a diversity of pressures and dangers - and asserts that existence can change rapidly and has done so constantly throughout its history.
There is no ducking the differences between science and organized religion, which have developed as organized religion has denounced and opposed science. I believe that it is far better to confront those differences than it is to leave them unaddressed in silence. However, confrontation does not have to become arrogance - the best confrontation occurs in humility, when people confront what they do not or perhaps cannot know, and a find a way to live within that mystery. Both true science and true spirituality actively confront that void and derive meaning from that mystery.
Where organized religion and dogmatic rationalism insist on muting mystery, disparaging differences, and attacking ambiguity, I must walk another path. I must seek other answers. I leave the road of simplicity to travel the road of awe.
This is the first sentence from Marcelo Gleiser's column on NPR entitled "Multiverse Metaphysics".
If only things were simple! To understand that our planet lies in a solar system situated in a galaxy with more solar systems alone than we can imagine, and then - that there are billions of galaxies in our Universe...is this so simple after all? I think about the controversies surrounding Galileo and Kepler in their day, wondering what scientific discoveries will ascend from heresy to simplicity in the next 500 years?
I think about Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" TV series. I think about his wonder and fascination toward the magnificent intricacies of nature. A realization strikes me - awe is far more important than simplicity. I must resist simplicity.
A few days ago, I posted a column by Adam Frank of NPR on Facebook explaining how poetry can reconcile science and the sacred. Frank's column argues powerfully that science is a direct route to experiencing the sacred. This sacred awe is vitally important for the vitality of human life.
Because of its essential role in creating meaning for our lives, awe is fundamental to our shared humanity. To feel awe can be more important than understanding. Further, awe undermines understanding - to engage in awe is to admit a lack of understanding and to admit new possibilities amidst a mysterious unknown. One of my friends on Facebook, after I posted Frank's article on science and the sacred, complimented me for recognizing - as a non-religious person - that science and the sacred are compatible.
I have struggled to respond to that compliment, because I cannot accept it wholeheartedly. While I agree with my friend that science and the sacred are compatible, I do not agree that science and religion are necessarily compatible. There is a stark difference between the religion of awe and mystery, and the religion of simplicity and understanding. I believe that the first kind of religion is entirely compatible with science, but that the second kind of religion hopelessly distorts and undermines science.
To be fair, I also believe that the nonreligious can abuse excessive certainty - that a fundamentalist confidence in one's own understanding is just as dangerous to science as religious dogma. Any kind of strict adherence to simplicity annihilates both true science and true spirituality.
All too often, organized religion asserts a monopoly on fact and truth - while it asserts that there is only one way to live - and asserts that the course of existence is pre-determined and set by divine law. Science asserts, by searching for answers, that the world is unknown to it - while evolutionary theory demonstrates compellingly that life is a flowing and diverse tide, responding in different ways to a diversity of pressures and dangers - and asserts that existence can change rapidly and has done so constantly throughout its history.
There is no ducking the differences between science and organized religion, which have developed as organized religion has denounced and opposed science. I believe that it is far better to confront those differences than it is to leave them unaddressed in silence. However, confrontation does not have to become arrogance - the best confrontation occurs in humility, when people confront what they do not or perhaps cannot know, and a find a way to live within that mystery. Both true science and true spirituality actively confront that void and derive meaning from that mystery.
Where organized religion and dogmatic rationalism insist on muting mystery, disparaging differences, and attacking ambiguity, I must walk another path. I must seek other answers. I leave the road of simplicity to travel the road of awe.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Fighting Authority In the Name of Spirituality
Recently, I attended a talk by author Brian McLaren, a figure in the emergent Christianity movement. He was wondering why religion and spirituality can seem so distant from one another. Frankly, I am beginning to expect that religion and spirituality are destined to remain in conflict, when I think about the nature of the relationship between religion and authority.
I can't help but consider another recent religious encounter of mine. After I befriended an evangelical Christian classmate last semester in a political theory course through some friendly bickering about politics and religion, he insisted that I join him in a discussion group with his pastor. I may have to write a separate blog post or two about that evening later, but for now, what strikes me from the conversation is the pastor's declaration that "Christianity cannot be about morality". The pastor reasoned that since multiple religions not only allow, but encourage, their followers to lead what most people agree to be a moral life, that Christianity cannot primarily be meant to enforce morality.
Finally, I have been reading "A History of God" by Karen Armstrong, and as I told my girlfriend, the major lesson I have learned from Armstrong's book is that I must never again generalize about any religion. With that lesson in mind, I will say that Christianity is a diverse vehicle for many interests and ideas, not only about God, but about humanity. Because Christianity comes in so many forms, perhaps that alone makes it unlikely that spirituality could coexist peacefully with other values.
It is evident that religious teachings contain moral content - even if that content is difficult for its followers to decipher, or if it is difficult for people in the 21st century to decide how to apply the advice of prophets and poets from thousands of years ago. Yet, I tend to agree with my evangelical friend's pastor that in many ways, religion is not just about morality. Another important part of religion I wish to explore is religion's justifications and support for authority.
I do not have a hard time envisioning religion as a set of community standards and practices which can define the values and the identity of a community. Perhaps the process of trying to reach a better understanding of God/gods mirrors the process of individuals trying to reconcile their own interests with the interests of their communities.
When the religion of a community echoes the identity and the values of a culture, it is not surprising that the existence of people who do not embrace the dominant religion would feel threatening, and frighten a society. Perhaps, to those members of the dominant religion, the people rejecting the local religion are also rejecting the local culture, tradition, and identity. Perhaps, from their perspective, those unbelievers are literally destroying the social fabric itself, which provides their lives with meaning and purpose.
If you believe the Gospels, you will witness how the Jewish authorities of Jesus's day mistrusted Jesus and deeply felt that his actions were undermining and eroding the local culture. When Jesus overturned the tables at the synagogue, when Jesus spent time with tax collectors and women of unfavorable reputations, when Jesus associated himself with the despised officials of imperial Rome...when Jesus did all those things, he was acting against his culture and tradition, undermining not only the power of his culture, but the stability of its authorities.
If you believe the Qu'ran, you will witness how Muhammad (pbuh) was chased from Mecca to Medina. His insistence that there is only one God, instead of a multitude of gods, must have absolutely driven people mad with anger and resentment. Why would someone interfere so radically and wildly against society's most dear and sacred practices? Why would someone callously seek to destroy the elaborately devised system of religious tribute and tradition which had been so carefully maintained?
How can spirituality coexist peacefully with authority? Authority thrives when individuals do not question their relationships. Spirituality thrives when individuals question everything, in the name of greater awareness, understanding, and closeness to God or other forces. It is impossible to practice religious mysticism in a condition of blind and passive acceptance. Where is the mystery in the faith then? Where does the mystery go, when the Emperors and the kings and the Presidents tell you exactly what to believe?
No thanks. Because I refuse to accept the religious answers of a majority of my society, I will probably never win a political office, and many members of my culture will despise me and wonder how I could be a moral and loving person - but I will remain free to help create a new social fabric. I will remain free to help expand human cooperation, respect, and brotherhood, in any way that I choose - just as Jesus and Muhammad (pbuh) chose to do, at the risk of their possessions, their families, and their lives, so many years ago. As those prophets chose before me, I choose to exercise the authority of freedom and true spirituality.
I can't help but consider another recent religious encounter of mine. After I befriended an evangelical Christian classmate last semester in a political theory course through some friendly bickering about politics and religion, he insisted that I join him in a discussion group with his pastor. I may have to write a separate blog post or two about that evening later, but for now, what strikes me from the conversation is the pastor's declaration that "Christianity cannot be about morality". The pastor reasoned that since multiple religions not only allow, but encourage, their followers to lead what most people agree to be a moral life, that Christianity cannot primarily be meant to enforce morality.
Finally, I have been reading "A History of God" by Karen Armstrong, and as I told my girlfriend, the major lesson I have learned from Armstrong's book is that I must never again generalize about any religion. With that lesson in mind, I will say that Christianity is a diverse vehicle for many interests and ideas, not only about God, but about humanity. Because Christianity comes in so many forms, perhaps that alone makes it unlikely that spirituality could coexist peacefully with other values.
It is evident that religious teachings contain moral content - even if that content is difficult for its followers to decipher, or if it is difficult for people in the 21st century to decide how to apply the advice of prophets and poets from thousands of years ago. Yet, I tend to agree with my evangelical friend's pastor that in many ways, religion is not just about morality. Another important part of religion I wish to explore is religion's justifications and support for authority.
I do not have a hard time envisioning religion as a set of community standards and practices which can define the values and the identity of a community. Perhaps the process of trying to reach a better understanding of God/gods mirrors the process of individuals trying to reconcile their own interests with the interests of their communities.
When the religion of a community echoes the identity and the values of a culture, it is not surprising that the existence of people who do not embrace the dominant religion would feel threatening, and frighten a society. Perhaps, to those members of the dominant religion, the people rejecting the local religion are also rejecting the local culture, tradition, and identity. Perhaps, from their perspective, those unbelievers are literally destroying the social fabric itself, which provides their lives with meaning and purpose.
If you believe the Gospels, you will witness how the Jewish authorities of Jesus's day mistrusted Jesus and deeply felt that his actions were undermining and eroding the local culture. When Jesus overturned the tables at the synagogue, when Jesus spent time with tax collectors and women of unfavorable reputations, when Jesus associated himself with the despised officials of imperial Rome...when Jesus did all those things, he was acting against his culture and tradition, undermining not only the power of his culture, but the stability of its authorities.
If you believe the Qu'ran, you will witness how Muhammad (pbuh) was chased from Mecca to Medina. His insistence that there is only one God, instead of a multitude of gods, must have absolutely driven people mad with anger and resentment. Why would someone interfere so radically and wildly against society's most dear and sacred practices? Why would someone callously seek to destroy the elaborately devised system of religious tribute and tradition which had been so carefully maintained?
How can spirituality coexist peacefully with authority? Authority thrives when individuals do not question their relationships. Spirituality thrives when individuals question everything, in the name of greater awareness, understanding, and closeness to God or other forces. It is impossible to practice religious mysticism in a condition of blind and passive acceptance. Where is the mystery in the faith then? Where does the mystery go, when the Emperors and the kings and the Presidents tell you exactly what to believe?
No thanks. Because I refuse to accept the religious answers of a majority of my society, I will probably never win a political office, and many members of my culture will despise me and wonder how I could be a moral and loving person - but I will remain free to help create a new social fabric. I will remain free to help expand human cooperation, respect, and brotherhood, in any way that I choose - just as Jesus and Muhammad (pbuh) chose to do, at the risk of their possessions, their families, and their lives, so many years ago. As those prophets chose before me, I choose to exercise the authority of freedom and true spirituality.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Is Evolution Consistent with God's Love? (Part Two)
In my first post, I stated that I do not see a contradiction between the stories of creation in Genesis and evolution. However, I also said that the question of whether Christianity and evolution are compatible hinges on the question of love: if it is the Christian god which made the world through evolution, is that a loving god? Is a belief that the Christian god created the world through evolution compatible with the idea of God's love?
The world is fallen. I have been informed of this state of affairs often, especially while attending church the first 18 years of my life, and I have heard this claim repeated many times in the sermons I have read and heard since that time. It's perhaps one of the three central claims of Christianity, besides God's creation and the resurrection of Jesus - one of a holy trinity of selling points for the faith.
It's also true. Earth is a mess. People are selfish, and take little care of anyone other than themselves. In fact, people are even catastrophically bad at protecting their own interests, over the long-term. Humans beings are usually short-sighted and indifferent to others at best, and cruel and vindictive to others at worst.
I do believe that Earth is fallen, that there is rampant evil in the world, and that the Genesis narratives are fully compatible with God creating us through evolution. So why am I not a Christian?
The biggest reason I can't accept both Christianity and evolution is that I don't agree that the Christian idea of redemption makes sense in a world created through evolution. In a world of chaos and evil, the idea of a loving God as a redeeming and uplifting force in human life has great appeal. However, I find that this message of redemption in Christianity is often undercut by other parts of Christian belief. By itself, it is hard to resist the allure of redemption - but paradoxically, what seems to be an excessive focus on human brokenness ruins the message of redemption for me.
I can't believe that a loving god created people broken, and then would blame people for their own brokenness, when their mistakes are many times the result of an evolutionary process which people claim God started. A God who created humanity through evolution created broken people. Perhaps the Garden of Eden story is an allegory, even more so than most orthodox Christians are willing to admit. Perhaps all the story is saying is that when humans rely on their own knowledge, they are broken, and need another force - like God - to redeem them. I find it hard to disagree with this message. It's simple, and true, and profound.
On the other hand, a lot of Christians go a long way to tell me that every "sinful" act of humanity is a choice, a direct choice to rebel against God. It's not just that humans cannot rely on themselves and need another force for redemption, but that humans have actively chosen to betray God, who created them perfectly, and is perfect himself. This, I cannot believe. I believe that humanity is broken at some fundamental level, and that there is a need for redemption. I cannot go the extra step and believe that human brokenness is directly the fault of humanity - if there is also a God which created people through evolution, a process which in its indifference leads to errors and a steep learning curve.
If the Christian god created humanity through evolution, then humans have been created in a way that would make "mistakes" - how could our brokenness be a choice? If evolution and Christianity are both true, then it feels like God chose for us to be broken, and then judges us for our brokenness. What kind of redemption is that?
Evolution is generally an indifferent process, with no goal of design. People forget the brutality of natural selection, and the seemingly arbitrary ways the human body (as well as all other living things) have been arranged. Evolution is not a perfect process, so how could I expect humans to be perfect? Could a god who created humans through an imperfect process expect humans to be perfect?
Do people choose to be selfish, and choose to do evil? Yes, and it is hard for me to disagree that people could be judged for those choices. But a loving god should redeem humanity because we are lost - and god helped us lose our way. If there is a God, this God must have a higher purpose for creating humans through evolution. Perhaps this process of errors and mistakes serves a divine purpose. Perhaps God wants us to experience what it's like to be wrong, what it's like to learn and grow. Learning requires mistakes. Maybe God didn't want us to be perfect. Of course, that explanation also rejects most of orthodox Christianity, but I'm not sure how else to reconcile a god who judges human for their actions - actions which happened to be set in motion by evolution, a process people claim was authored by God.
I cannot settle for the standard Christian explanation of God's judgment, God's love, and accept evolution, too. Although I am not a Christian for other additional reasons, if I am going to accept Christianity and evolution as compatible, I must accept a different view of God's intentions. If God intentionally used a process to create humanity that would leave people vulnerable to their worst impulses, then the traditional idea of a perfect God creating perfect humans who actively rebel against God to create sin makes no sense.
If God used evolution, as imperfect as it is, and the Christian god exists, then God must have a higher purpose for our mistakes, rather than simply judging us as if we were supposed to have the right answers all along. Since I am not a Christian, I may not be the best person to discern what that higher purpose may be. However, I have a guess. Perhaps there is a God, who wants us to learn from our mistakes and develop a morality which comes from an awareness of our dependence on others. If humanity had to learn about morality through a broken process, perhaps God is letting us experience this brokenness for a reason. I'm still not convinced that both evolution and Christianity are true, but it's far more plausible to me than the explanations I'm used to hearing.
The world is fallen. I have been informed of this state of affairs often, especially while attending church the first 18 years of my life, and I have heard this claim repeated many times in the sermons I have read and heard since that time. It's perhaps one of the three central claims of Christianity, besides God's creation and the resurrection of Jesus - one of a holy trinity of selling points for the faith.
It's also true. Earth is a mess. People are selfish, and take little care of anyone other than themselves. In fact, people are even catastrophically bad at protecting their own interests, over the long-term. Humans beings are usually short-sighted and indifferent to others at best, and cruel and vindictive to others at worst.
I do believe that Earth is fallen, that there is rampant evil in the world, and that the Genesis narratives are fully compatible with God creating us through evolution. So why am I not a Christian?
The biggest reason I can't accept both Christianity and evolution is that I don't agree that the Christian idea of redemption makes sense in a world created through evolution. In a world of chaos and evil, the idea of a loving God as a redeeming and uplifting force in human life has great appeal. However, I find that this message of redemption in Christianity is often undercut by other parts of Christian belief. By itself, it is hard to resist the allure of redemption - but paradoxically, what seems to be an excessive focus on human brokenness ruins the message of redemption for me.
I can't believe that a loving god created people broken, and then would blame people for their own brokenness, when their mistakes are many times the result of an evolutionary process which people claim God started. A God who created humanity through evolution created broken people. Perhaps the Garden of Eden story is an allegory, even more so than most orthodox Christians are willing to admit. Perhaps all the story is saying is that when humans rely on their own knowledge, they are broken, and need another force - like God - to redeem them. I find it hard to disagree with this message. It's simple, and true, and profound.
On the other hand, a lot of Christians go a long way to tell me that every "sinful" act of humanity is a choice, a direct choice to rebel against God. It's not just that humans cannot rely on themselves and need another force for redemption, but that humans have actively chosen to betray God, who created them perfectly, and is perfect himself. This, I cannot believe. I believe that humanity is broken at some fundamental level, and that there is a need for redemption. I cannot go the extra step and believe that human brokenness is directly the fault of humanity - if there is also a God which created people through evolution, a process which in its indifference leads to errors and a steep learning curve.
If the Christian god created humanity through evolution, then humans have been created in a way that would make "mistakes" - how could our brokenness be a choice? If evolution and Christianity are both true, then it feels like God chose for us to be broken, and then judges us for our brokenness. What kind of redemption is that?
Evolution is generally an indifferent process, with no goal of design. People forget the brutality of natural selection, and the seemingly arbitrary ways the human body (as well as all other living things) have been arranged. Evolution is not a perfect process, so how could I expect humans to be perfect? Could a god who created humans through an imperfect process expect humans to be perfect?
Do people choose to be selfish, and choose to do evil? Yes, and it is hard for me to disagree that people could be judged for those choices. But a loving god should redeem humanity because we are lost - and god helped us lose our way. If there is a God, this God must have a higher purpose for creating humans through evolution. Perhaps this process of errors and mistakes serves a divine purpose. Perhaps God wants us to experience what it's like to be wrong, what it's like to learn and grow. Learning requires mistakes. Maybe God didn't want us to be perfect. Of course, that explanation also rejects most of orthodox Christianity, but I'm not sure how else to reconcile a god who judges human for their actions - actions which happened to be set in motion by evolution, a process people claim was authored by God.
I cannot settle for the standard Christian explanation of God's judgment, God's love, and accept evolution, too. Although I am not a Christian for other additional reasons, if I am going to accept Christianity and evolution as compatible, I must accept a different view of God's intentions. If God intentionally used a process to create humanity that would leave people vulnerable to their worst impulses, then the traditional idea of a perfect God creating perfect humans who actively rebel against God to create sin makes no sense.
If God used evolution, as imperfect as it is, and the Christian god exists, then God must have a higher purpose for our mistakes, rather than simply judging us as if we were supposed to have the right answers all along. Since I am not a Christian, I may not be the best person to discern what that higher purpose may be. However, I have a guess. Perhaps there is a God, who wants us to learn from our mistakes and develop a morality which comes from an awareness of our dependence on others. If humanity had to learn about morality through a broken process, perhaps God is letting us experience this brokenness for a reason. I'm still not convinced that both evolution and Christianity are true, but it's far more plausible to me than the explanations I'm used to hearing.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Doubt and Atheism as Faith
Comparisons between religion and atheism are typically more a matter of rhetoric than logic and a matter of emotion more than measured analysis. There is not a single assertion about religious or philosophical thought which will not offend someone. While I will do my best in this post to be fair and consistent, I am certain it will inevitably disturb. If that possibility is too much for you, please do not read what follows.
I am continually disappointed that people parade their own knowledge and their own experience as the pinnacle of absolute truth. I am thankfully not alone. There are both religious and non-religious people who agree with me that each person should express his or her own views in humility, taking caution to remember the limited perspective and knowledge of each human being.
People of many creeds and traditions have adopted and cultivated an active sense of doubt. While individuals often disagree on which things they doubt and which things they accept, there is a consensus that each person should doubt all opinions equally and persistently.
Some people who are not religious believe in doubt so strongly that they refuse to claim belief in any faith. Those who would undermine the supremacy of doubt as a value often reply that doubt itself is also a faith, as strong as any religion. This accusation begs the question of what constitutes a faith.
It is difficult to say with any certainty precisely what faith is, which is fitting, given the difficulty in providing any absolute definition of an individual faith, such as Christianity or Islam. I realize it is dangerous to claim that beliefs are a faith before I have discovered what makes something a faith. I must admit I already have assumptions about what makes a belief a faith.
For me, a faith begins as an idea. An idea is some sort of guess about the world, some kind of hunch. A belief is an idea that one accepts strongly, and I view faith as an even stronger form of belief. Doubt is definitely a belief, because it is a pervasive idea with an extremely high number of applications. I disagree, though, that doubt alone is a strong enough belief to be a faith.
When I was in a class called "Contemporary Political Thought" last semester, a friend of mine and I had a very similar argument. He claimed that "if you state that all truth is provisional, you have asserted an absolute truth, so you can't really say that everything is provisional because it self-contradicts". I responded by stating that if the idea that truth is provisional can itself be contradicted by evidence, then it is not an absolute claim. The test of absoluteness is not whether a belief claims that it applies universally, but whether it could be hypothetically overturned by evidence at some point and then no longer apply universally.
I believe that a faith is something that claims to apply universally, but cannot be demonstrated by evidence. A faith is a belief so strong that it cannot be falsified by evidence; it is beyond even contradiction or non-contradiction. No one can challenge it rationally. This distinction is why atheists will turn funny colors and foam at the mouth a little bit if you claim that atheism is a faith. Perhaps a very strong atheism is a faith - I agree that the non-existence of any supernatural or metaphysical presence cannot be falsified by evidence. However, a weaker atheism, which asserts that only as a condition of the lack of evidence for supernatural forces, that one should not accept supernatural forces, does seem entirely different from the concept of a faith, in that its conclusions are not so strong that they could never be challenged by direct evidence.
That so many religious people claim that "people of faith" are every bit as capable of doubt as non-religious people is fine. It's a valid claim. By definition, you can only doubt a belief that is falsifiable. I also believe, however, that it is worthy of debate whether a person should believe in something which no possible evidence can disprove. I do not have any problems with this sort of belief on principle, as long as its practitioners acknowledge that it is a belief beyond the bounds of rationality and non-rationality. When people use their religion to make scientific or historical claims, those claims entirely undermine the concept of faith. A religion underpinned by scientific or historical claims should not be recognized as a faith, but as an ideology.
And in practice, religious ideologies often use their untestable claims to support actions which damage and hurt peoples' lives, because the ideology claims absolute superiority for itself and does not act in humility, and does not recognize its own limited knowledge. Very strong atheism is one of these negative ideologies, and also harms people - I already accept this to be true. When people absolutely believe that religion is a negative force in the world, there is much good and positive benefit that is ignored.
It is important to state, however, that atheism and doubt are not necessarily a faith. If you wish to challenge atheism, please challenge it not with insults, but with a response to its claims. Just as it is not fair to insist that religion should be accepted unless it meets the standards of rationality, it is unfair to insist that atheism is necessarily a faith. By definition, it is true that faith is not necessarily about evidence, and that atheism is not necessarily a faith. When challenging an idea, one must first understand what the idea means, and then challenge the meaning of the idea as it is understood by those who accept it. Only once you have responded to the claims of an idea that it actually makes, should you pretend to have made a serious intellectual challenge!
Is there anything directly wrong with faith? Not necessarily. Sometimes, there are questions people have about meaning, about values, about things outside the boundaries of science, which are almost impossible to answer but demand an answer. Occasionally, there are questions which may never have one right answer that can be rationally confirmed. Perhaps some moral and ethical principles are a faith - but perhaps they are not a faith. Perhaps there is rational evidence available to ground our values and ethics. May we never know for sure? Certainly. That's why I'm not certain.
I am continually disappointed that people parade their own knowledge and their own experience as the pinnacle of absolute truth. I am thankfully not alone. There are both religious and non-religious people who agree with me that each person should express his or her own views in humility, taking caution to remember the limited perspective and knowledge of each human being.
People of many creeds and traditions have adopted and cultivated an active sense of doubt. While individuals often disagree on which things they doubt and which things they accept, there is a consensus that each person should doubt all opinions equally and persistently.
Some people who are not religious believe in doubt so strongly that they refuse to claim belief in any faith. Those who would undermine the supremacy of doubt as a value often reply that doubt itself is also a faith, as strong as any religion. This accusation begs the question of what constitutes a faith.
It is difficult to say with any certainty precisely what faith is, which is fitting, given the difficulty in providing any absolute definition of an individual faith, such as Christianity or Islam. I realize it is dangerous to claim that beliefs are a faith before I have discovered what makes something a faith. I must admit I already have assumptions about what makes a belief a faith.
For me, a faith begins as an idea. An idea is some sort of guess about the world, some kind of hunch. A belief is an idea that one accepts strongly, and I view faith as an even stronger form of belief. Doubt is definitely a belief, because it is a pervasive idea with an extremely high number of applications. I disagree, though, that doubt alone is a strong enough belief to be a faith.
When I was in a class called "Contemporary Political Thought" last semester, a friend of mine and I had a very similar argument. He claimed that "if you state that all truth is provisional, you have asserted an absolute truth, so you can't really say that everything is provisional because it self-contradicts". I responded by stating that if the idea that truth is provisional can itself be contradicted by evidence, then it is not an absolute claim. The test of absoluteness is not whether a belief claims that it applies universally, but whether it could be hypothetically overturned by evidence at some point and then no longer apply universally.
I believe that a faith is something that claims to apply universally, but cannot be demonstrated by evidence. A faith is a belief so strong that it cannot be falsified by evidence; it is beyond even contradiction or non-contradiction. No one can challenge it rationally. This distinction is why atheists will turn funny colors and foam at the mouth a little bit if you claim that atheism is a faith. Perhaps a very strong atheism is a faith - I agree that the non-existence of any supernatural or metaphysical presence cannot be falsified by evidence. However, a weaker atheism, which asserts that only as a condition of the lack of evidence for supernatural forces, that one should not accept supernatural forces, does seem entirely different from the concept of a faith, in that its conclusions are not so strong that they could never be challenged by direct evidence.
That so many religious people claim that "people of faith" are every bit as capable of doubt as non-religious people is fine. It's a valid claim. By definition, you can only doubt a belief that is falsifiable. I also believe, however, that it is worthy of debate whether a person should believe in something which no possible evidence can disprove. I do not have any problems with this sort of belief on principle, as long as its practitioners acknowledge that it is a belief beyond the bounds of rationality and non-rationality. When people use their religion to make scientific or historical claims, those claims entirely undermine the concept of faith. A religion underpinned by scientific or historical claims should not be recognized as a faith, but as an ideology.
And in practice, religious ideologies often use their untestable claims to support actions which damage and hurt peoples' lives, because the ideology claims absolute superiority for itself and does not act in humility, and does not recognize its own limited knowledge. Very strong atheism is one of these negative ideologies, and also harms people - I already accept this to be true. When people absolutely believe that religion is a negative force in the world, there is much good and positive benefit that is ignored.
It is important to state, however, that atheism and doubt are not necessarily a faith. If you wish to challenge atheism, please challenge it not with insults, but with a response to its claims. Just as it is not fair to insist that religion should be accepted unless it meets the standards of rationality, it is unfair to insist that atheism is necessarily a faith. By definition, it is true that faith is not necessarily about evidence, and that atheism is not necessarily a faith. When challenging an idea, one must first understand what the idea means, and then challenge the meaning of the idea as it is understood by those who accept it. Only once you have responded to the claims of an idea that it actually makes, should you pretend to have made a serious intellectual challenge!
Is there anything directly wrong with faith? Not necessarily. Sometimes, there are questions people have about meaning, about values, about things outside the boundaries of science, which are almost impossible to answer but demand an answer. Occasionally, there are questions which may never have one right answer that can be rationally confirmed. Perhaps some moral and ethical principles are a faith - but perhaps they are not a faith. Perhaps there is rational evidence available to ground our values and ethics. May we never know for sure? Certainly. That's why I'm not certain.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
The Prism of all Beauty
I must warn you, that I am not the type for revelations. But who is? Have you ever met someone who’s had a revelation who was the type for it? Or heard of someone? Of course not – revelation in its very nature is entirely unexpected. Archimedes never expected to solve calculus problems in his bathtub, as I am sure his neighbors never rightly expected to see a naked Archimedes running wildly through the streets. And yet, I have had a minor revelation. I was sitting in my bed, thinking about the movie “Up”, and how it hit me so close to home, when I realized something important.
Humor is distance. It is the distance between pain and reconciliation - it is the path a beam of light travels from emptiness to solid form. Humor is a prism – you can see the light running through it and view at first-hand all the colors of human emotion. In that emotional distance, you can see everything: tears and sadness, regret, happiness, betrayal, excitement, anxiety, joy.
Humor is a way to cover up the void, or at least, to cover up what seems to be a void. But the secret to humor is that there really isn’t a void there, after all. I mean, it may seem that way once or twice, or maybe a few times, but when you keep checking, the void disappears. I’ll show you what I mean:
There’s a void, and it could be empty. And you would say, why is the void always empty? And I would say, why does it matter – look how quickly it fills again. The void just fills and refills, the finite running through the infinite, the light running through the prism and allowing its reflections to bounce off of all objects.
Or you would say, why do you suppose there is a void at all? Isn’t there always something filled, so how could it be empty? What kind of a fool would you have to be to believe in an empty space? That’s the joke, really – the joke is that it doesn’t actually matter whether there is an empty space or not. It really doesn’t matter whether there is a void or not, at the end of everything, mostly because it’s always being filled…whether it’s filled with love or compassion or sympathy or understanding or brotherhood…it doesn’t really matter what was there before, but only what is going into it.
And I suppose that’s why I am a humanist. I see light pouring in from all sides – although I must acknowledge I do not know what was here before. For me, it is a mystery – and it is enough to say that there is a void and that it is being filled up, like the beginning of a joke followed by a punchline, or despair followed by consolation. And I see all kinds of beautiful strains of light pouring into the world, beautiful stained glass revelations from every creed and tradition, overflowing with wisdom and compassion.
Before I was here, there was nothing to tell you what I am telling you. Now I am here. That is enough for me. I know my family and friends will ask me, how can you see the light in this world and not acknowledge its beauty? Please believe me, I do. It is beautiful, and ghastly, and haunting.
I can imagine it with some difficulty, as is usually fitting for these sorts of experiences. I begin to imagine that everything which has ever been imagined does not exist. Then it exists, and it is incredible, and stunning - and then I realize, too, that none of it may ever exist again. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t know where it’s going. All I know is that I am surrounded by this beautiful light and I want to fill this seemingly empty and desolate canvass with all of its gorgeous shades and pastels, to pass something surreal through that great void and create beauty again.
Humor is distance. It is the distance between pain and reconciliation - it is the path a beam of light travels from emptiness to solid form. Humor is a prism – you can see the light running through it and view at first-hand all the colors of human emotion. In that emotional distance, you can see everything: tears and sadness, regret, happiness, betrayal, excitement, anxiety, joy.
Humor is a way to cover up the void, or at least, to cover up what seems to be a void. But the secret to humor is that there really isn’t a void there, after all. I mean, it may seem that way once or twice, or maybe a few times, but when you keep checking, the void disappears. I’ll show you what I mean:
There’s a void, and it could be empty. And you would say, why is the void always empty? And I would say, why does it matter – look how quickly it fills again. The void just fills and refills, the finite running through the infinite, the light running through the prism and allowing its reflections to bounce off of all objects.
Or you would say, why do you suppose there is a void at all? Isn’t there always something filled, so how could it be empty? What kind of a fool would you have to be to believe in an empty space? That’s the joke, really – the joke is that it doesn’t actually matter whether there is an empty space or not. It really doesn’t matter whether there is a void or not, at the end of everything, mostly because it’s always being filled…whether it’s filled with love or compassion or sympathy or understanding or brotherhood…it doesn’t really matter what was there before, but only what is going into it.
And I suppose that’s why I am a humanist. I see light pouring in from all sides – although I must acknowledge I do not know what was here before. For me, it is a mystery – and it is enough to say that there is a void and that it is being filled up, like the beginning of a joke followed by a punchline, or despair followed by consolation. And I see all kinds of beautiful strains of light pouring into the world, beautiful stained glass revelations from every creed and tradition, overflowing with wisdom and compassion.
Before I was here, there was nothing to tell you what I am telling you. Now I am here. That is enough for me. I know my family and friends will ask me, how can you see the light in this world and not acknowledge its beauty? Please believe me, I do. It is beautiful, and ghastly, and haunting.
I can imagine it with some difficulty, as is usually fitting for these sorts of experiences. I begin to imagine that everything which has ever been imagined does not exist. Then it exists, and it is incredible, and stunning - and then I realize, too, that none of it may ever exist again. I don’t know where it comes from, and I don’t know where it’s going. All I know is that I am surrounded by this beautiful light and I want to fill this seemingly empty and desolate canvass with all of its gorgeous shades and pastels, to pass something surreal through that great void and create beauty again.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The Salvation of Mystery
The other day, I finally realized what post-modernism signifies. Post-modernism introduces an ambiguity, an uncertainty, a series of paradoxes into the understanding of everyday language and experience. I have witnessed a profound distaste for this probing and inquisitiveness, and I have directly shared this hesitation.
For a long time, I have viewed forms of post-modernism as empty, meaningless, and unnecessarily skeptical. To ask things like, 'what is the meaning of truth', 'who is the Other', and 'who are the People in "We the People"'? What's the point?
This rogue questioning seems to be a silly exercise - it ignores finding a solution to problems such as violence and poverty in favor of analyzing how we discuss problems such as violence and poverty.
Besides, isn't focusing on the problems themselves enough? The human race does, after all, have a great expertise for solving problems. Humanity has exercised a tremendous capacity for knowledge and discovery. Should I reject or cast doubt upon the workings of science and technology which have brought such monumental greatness and convenience into my life?
I am disturbed by the urgings of post-modernism, but I have realized something: I need this disturbance in my life -- and I have not yet begun to be disturbed enough.
"I come not to bring peace, but to bring a sword." - Jesus, Matthew 10:34
Today, societies have unprecedented access to knowledge of the external world around us. From the smallest imaginable wonders reached through nanotechnology to the eerily beautiful images shown from the largest echoes of space by the Hubble Telescope, humanity has a more significant grasp on reality than ever before.
Or so we think...and so we tell ourselves.
I have started to embrace post-modernism because it demands that we re-ask these questions of ourselves. So let me ask you again, not what kind of grasp you have on reality, but what kind of grasp reality has on you?
Said another way: Do you have an internal knowledge of yourself which equals your knowledge of the external world?
"What is truth?" - Pontius Pilate, John 18:38
Many post-modernists have expressed skepticism about the existence of a universal and absolute truth. Many religious people have expressed strong dismay about post-modernism because of this skepticism. Religious figures have reasoned that any skepticism about a universal truth would naturally extend to skepticism about the truth of religion, which is often claimed to be absolute and universal in nature.
I believe this skepticism of skepticism is unwarranted. (Skepticism of skepticism? Isn't that just the kind of unnecessarily complicated phrase a true post-modernist would use? What is it about post-modernism which erodes the use of language? What better evidence that what questions does in fact erode!)
The skepticism (from religious people) of the skepticism (of post-modernists) is not warranted because both religion and post-modernism share some of their most important values and perspectives on the world.
Mystery Enters the World
I'm not a Christian. But I am willing to accept that a fellow named Jesus very likely existed at some point, and could have done many of the things described in the Bible.
In the Gospels, Jesus vigorously questions the religious authorities of his day. The Pharisees constantly attempt to pin Jesus down on legalities to destroy his credibility.
Jesus denied that the prominent religious figures of his day had a monopoly on universal and absolute truth. He did not come to ease their understanding - he did not come to reassure their prejudices - he did not come to bring peace, but to bring a sword, and he did not come to bring simplicity, but to bring mystery.
Both religion and post-modernism introduce a mystery and an uncertainty into our mundane, everyday world which forces individuals to confront the structure and meaning of their inner-most, firmly-held beliefs and attitudes.
Both religion and post-modernism can lead the pilgrim into a voyage of re-examination, from which emerges a new life full of vitality and hope.
Mystery's Final Ascension
Where is the hope from mystery? Where is the light in this darkness?
The answer is the power of human imagination. Both religion and post-modernism imagine new meanings and new interpretations of life - both envision new alternatives to choose, and actively confront humanity with those choices.
Both religion and post-modernism resurrect what they divide: beneath the multiplicity and diversity of meanings lies a common connection. As words and concepts used to segment and oppose human beings are undermined, a new possibility of existence is realized.
No more Jew and Gentile, no more man and woman...
No more I and Other, no more black and white...
Both post-modernism and religion can free individuals from oppression and encourage them to see beyond the superficial differences which all too often consume humanity, to see new conditions of human life, where all individuals are free to pursue their creative potential as human beings.
Both Jesus Christ and Friedrich Nietzsche can tell you that underneath truth, there is life.
For a long time, I have viewed forms of post-modernism as empty, meaningless, and unnecessarily skeptical. To ask things like, 'what is the meaning of truth', 'who is the Other', and 'who are the People in "We the People"'? What's the point?
This rogue questioning seems to be a silly exercise - it ignores finding a solution to problems such as violence and poverty in favor of analyzing how we discuss problems such as violence and poverty.
Besides, isn't focusing on the problems themselves enough? The human race does, after all, have a great expertise for solving problems. Humanity has exercised a tremendous capacity for knowledge and discovery. Should I reject or cast doubt upon the workings of science and technology which have brought such monumental greatness and convenience into my life?
I am disturbed by the urgings of post-modernism, but I have realized something: I need this disturbance in my life -- and I have not yet begun to be disturbed enough.
"I come not to bring peace, but to bring a sword." - Jesus, Matthew 10:34
Today, societies have unprecedented access to knowledge of the external world around us. From the smallest imaginable wonders reached through nanotechnology to the eerily beautiful images shown from the largest echoes of space by the Hubble Telescope, humanity has a more significant grasp on reality than ever before.
Or so we think...and so we tell ourselves.
I have started to embrace post-modernism because it demands that we re-ask these questions of ourselves. So let me ask you again, not what kind of grasp you have on reality, but what kind of grasp reality has on you?
Said another way: Do you have an internal knowledge of yourself which equals your knowledge of the external world?
"What is truth?" - Pontius Pilate, John 18:38
Many post-modernists have expressed skepticism about the existence of a universal and absolute truth. Many religious people have expressed strong dismay about post-modernism because of this skepticism. Religious figures have reasoned that any skepticism about a universal truth would naturally extend to skepticism about the truth of religion, which is often claimed to be absolute and universal in nature.
I believe this skepticism of skepticism is unwarranted. (Skepticism of skepticism? Isn't that just the kind of unnecessarily complicated phrase a true post-modernist would use? What is it about post-modernism which erodes the use of language? What better evidence that what questions does in fact erode!)
The skepticism (from religious people) of the skepticism (of post-modernists) is not warranted because both religion and post-modernism share some of their most important values and perspectives on the world.
Mystery Enters the World
I'm not a Christian. But I am willing to accept that a fellow named Jesus very likely existed at some point, and could have done many of the things described in the Bible.
In the Gospels, Jesus vigorously questions the religious authorities of his day. The Pharisees constantly attempt to pin Jesus down on legalities to destroy his credibility.
Jesus denied that the prominent religious figures of his day had a monopoly on universal and absolute truth. He did not come to ease their understanding - he did not come to reassure their prejudices - he did not come to bring peace, but to bring a sword, and he did not come to bring simplicity, but to bring mystery.
Both religion and post-modernism introduce a mystery and an uncertainty into our mundane, everyday world which forces individuals to confront the structure and meaning of their inner-most, firmly-held beliefs and attitudes.
Both religion and post-modernism can lead the pilgrim into a voyage of re-examination, from which emerges a new life full of vitality and hope.
Mystery's Final Ascension
Where is the hope from mystery? Where is the light in this darkness?
The answer is the power of human imagination. Both religion and post-modernism imagine new meanings and new interpretations of life - both envision new alternatives to choose, and actively confront humanity with those choices.
Both religion and post-modernism resurrect what they divide: beneath the multiplicity and diversity of meanings lies a common connection. As words and concepts used to segment and oppose human beings are undermined, a new possibility of existence is realized.
No more Jew and Gentile, no more man and woman...
No more I and Other, no more black and white...
Both post-modernism and religion can free individuals from oppression and encourage them to see beyond the superficial differences which all too often consume humanity, to see new conditions of human life, where all individuals are free to pursue their creative potential as human beings.
Both Jesus Christ and Friedrich Nietzsche can tell you that underneath truth, there is life.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Wish to Live
What are the highest values in life? What ideas provide guidance for the best possible living? What is the inspiration which accords the best template for living, for fully realizing our potential as human beings?
Friedrich Nietzsche mentions the "will to power" as a force which has "succeeded in explaining our entire instinctive life". Is this "will to power", though, merely a description of how the world works, of how life exists, or is it also a normative statement (an outline of how life should be lived)? Should we live only according to our instincts? Does living against the pattern of our instincts hopelessly obscure and defeat life itself? Or, rather, does life only begin to soar once it transcends our basic instincts for higher goals?
Which parts of the "will to power" should be embraced by society? Nietzsche repeatedly asserts that those conditions which enable life to flourish should be promoted. But what does it mean for life to flourish? Does life flourish when it is restrained, or when it is constricted; does life flourish only when it is maintained and managed, or only when it is free and independent? What does it mean to preserve and enhance life? And what kinds of life does Nietzsche value?
Nietzsche objects to those who place more emphasis on suffering in this life, in exchange for a better future life, than on experiencing life in the present world. But for many people, the experience of life essentially contains suffering - and suffering really can be described as the origin of life. Perhaps suffering is the main mode of life, after all: not the "will to power", but the "will to suffer" predominates, or perhaps the "will to power" is also a "will to suffer". Lastly, perhaps Nietzsche is not really against an acknowledgment of suffering, but merely disagrees as to what manner people should direct their suffering.
A preacher here on campus has suggested that God created the world in an act of love as suffering. I have heard it said, "to love someone truly, you must allow them to have the chance to make you suffer".
Did God create the world in an act of love as suffering? Even if there is no God, is this the essential state of our world as it exists now? Does all the world in the world owe its existence to some form of suffering?
And who would punish a lover for one's own love, if there is a God who has created such a world? Jesus in the Gospels tells the parable of the prodigal son. The father allows the son to experience life on his own terms, and allows the son to suffer the consequences of his actions. Would a loving God allow us to suffer merely as a consequence of Its actions, merely because a world was created wherein we humans were given this life which has built itself upon our suffering?
To love is in part to suffer. And suffer I do, as we all do...adrenaline, oxytocin, estrogen...coursing through the channels of my soul, of every "soul". Chemicals corrode my soul, yet they restore my body. My body atones for my soul. These hapless emotions, what poor excuse of a being am I? Too far gone in this world. Too near-sighted for the things to come. Not spiritual enough. Too human.
That lustful glance is the adultery of my spirit. But not to glance is the adultery of my body. To glance, to live: to commit adultery of the mind, or the heart? I have been ripped to shreds and torn apart, glued together again, haphazardly...this is the way life has developed over billions of years, ripping and tearing itself apart, to time and time again, build things that are newer and stranger, odd and more odd are these evolved creatures, these "thinking things" that are called human beings. This is the worst and the best that I am. I give my love, I give my pain, and I give my innocence...all in the name of life.
This is what God gave me, if it was indeed a divine gift...my own freedom, my own shame; my own love, my own suffering. All that and less: some of the things He gave me I'm apparently supposed to disown. In the name of a Higher Life. In the name of a Higher Love, and a Higher Truth.
Pilot washed his hands before he condemned Jesus. Did God wash His mind in the hormones of our psyches before condemning us?
If God exists, then God should commend evil instead of condemning it, for this evil has propelled us to life. We love ourselves. We love our family. We love our tribe, our sect, our friends. This is evil, since we love them for their suffering, because only that has brought us into this world and continually sustains us. Perhaps someday, when we remember the suffering that endures and surrounds us, the suffering that has created life in all its stark beauty and terror, then we will love our neighbor as ourselves, most of all because they suffer as we suffer.
Friedrich Nietzsche mentions the "will to power" as a force which has "succeeded in explaining our entire instinctive life". Is this "will to power", though, merely a description of how the world works, of how life exists, or is it also a normative statement (an outline of how life should be lived)? Should we live only according to our instincts? Does living against the pattern of our instincts hopelessly obscure and defeat life itself? Or, rather, does life only begin to soar once it transcends our basic instincts for higher goals?
Which parts of the "will to power" should be embraced by society? Nietzsche repeatedly asserts that those conditions which enable life to flourish should be promoted. But what does it mean for life to flourish? Does life flourish when it is restrained, or when it is constricted; does life flourish only when it is maintained and managed, or only when it is free and independent? What does it mean to preserve and enhance life? And what kinds of life does Nietzsche value?
Nietzsche objects to those who place more emphasis on suffering in this life, in exchange for a better future life, than on experiencing life in the present world. But for many people, the experience of life essentially contains suffering - and suffering really can be described as the origin of life. Perhaps suffering is the main mode of life, after all: not the "will to power", but the "will to suffer" predominates, or perhaps the "will to power" is also a "will to suffer". Lastly, perhaps Nietzsche is not really against an acknowledgment of suffering, but merely disagrees as to what manner people should direct their suffering.
A preacher here on campus has suggested that God created the world in an act of love as suffering. I have heard it said, "to love someone truly, you must allow them to have the chance to make you suffer".
Did God create the world in an act of love as suffering? Even if there is no God, is this the essential state of our world as it exists now? Does all the world in the world owe its existence to some form of suffering?
And who would punish a lover for one's own love, if there is a God who has created such a world? Jesus in the Gospels tells the parable of the prodigal son. The father allows the son to experience life on his own terms, and allows the son to suffer the consequences of his actions. Would a loving God allow us to suffer merely as a consequence of Its actions, merely because a world was created wherein we humans were given this life which has built itself upon our suffering?
To love is in part to suffer. And suffer I do, as we all do...adrenaline, oxytocin, estrogen...coursing through the channels of my soul, of every "soul". Chemicals corrode my soul, yet they restore my body. My body atones for my soul. These hapless emotions, what poor excuse of a being am I? Too far gone in this world. Too near-sighted for the things to come. Not spiritual enough. Too human.
That lustful glance is the adultery of my spirit. But not to glance is the adultery of my body. To glance, to live: to commit adultery of the mind, or the heart? I have been ripped to shreds and torn apart, glued together again, haphazardly...this is the way life has developed over billions of years, ripping and tearing itself apart, to time and time again, build things that are newer and stranger, odd and more odd are these evolved creatures, these "thinking things" that are called human beings. This is the worst and the best that I am. I give my love, I give my pain, and I give my innocence...all in the name of life.
This is what God gave me, if it was indeed a divine gift...my own freedom, my own shame; my own love, my own suffering. All that and less: some of the things He gave me I'm apparently supposed to disown. In the name of a Higher Life. In the name of a Higher Love, and a Higher Truth.
Pilot washed his hands before he condemned Jesus. Did God wash His mind in the hormones of our psyches before condemning us?
If God exists, then God should commend evil instead of condemning it, for this evil has propelled us to life. We love ourselves. We love our family. We love our tribe, our sect, our friends. This is evil, since we love them for their suffering, because only that has brought us into this world and continually sustains us. Perhaps someday, when we remember the suffering that endures and surrounds us, the suffering that has created life in all its stark beauty and terror, then we will love our neighbor as ourselves, most of all because they suffer as we suffer.
Friday, February 4, 2011
My Doubt, My Threat, My Appetite
The band Jimmy Eat World wrote a song that I'm in love with: "My Best Theory", from their album "Invented". A brief snippet of the song goes:
"My doubt seems fine/
My true desire/
My threat/
My appetite"
Outstanding lyrics.
Doubt is many things. It is my annihilation. It is my preservation.
Doubt erodes, a steady stream of questioning which removes the face of well-worn notions, and it sculpts a new impression in old surfaces.
Doubt in its own nature embodies the biggest and most substantial conflict we know of: the chasm between permanence and stability, and change and chaos.
Every human being is a product of change. We originate as embryos, progressing through many stages, until a fully-grown adult form is realized. Each facet of our physical body is in flux: a multitude of cells appear and die each day within our body. Each facet of our consciousness and personality changes, too: throughout our interactions with other humans, we are molded and crafted in accordance with our fellow human beings. Their being is ours.
We depend on change to sustain us. If the seeds for our crops remain seeds, then we die. If the water which feeds many of our reservoirs remains snow or ice, then we die. If the rain which waters the crops remains water vapor in the sky, then we die.
Is it really true that we look for things to stay the same? We are surely blind to the immense changes which surround us in their exquisite insignificance.
We owe everything we have to change, but we seek to ground our lives in eternal truths. To doubt these truths, to chip away at them, is a betrayal of the truths towards which we aim. Our lives are bigger than this trivial nonsense. "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter", such great religious authorities as Yoda from Star Wars inform us.
Yet what exactly are we considering when we ponder these eternal truths? Our messages and teachings come to us from specific historical eras, and specific cultural contexts. Is it really appropriate to allow the message of Jesus, for example, to remain stale for two thousand years, when he castigated the religious leaders of his day for allowing the laws to become stale within their own hearts?
We humans express our knowledge and our truth through what we actively partake. We partake the body and the blood of truth, when we speak its voice for our times, when we allow our own doubts to refine and distill our beliefs and our values.
Doubt threatens to undo everything, but doubt also allows us to remember everything. Doubt allows us to exercise our faith, to propel ourselves upward, to participate again in the sacred enterprise - we are captivated by it and refreshed by it. We remember. We remember both why we believe now, and why we believed in the first place.
Certainty cannot exist without doubt, nor without change: for if we do not doubt, if we do not risk the possibility of change, then we forget why we are certain in the first place. When we forget to doubt, then we lose ourselves entirely. Our own desire for certainty enables change to erase ourselves: we become clean on the outside, but rotten within. Oh, you hypocrites, you brood of vipers...
"My doubt seems fine/
My true desire/
My threat/
My appetite"
Outstanding lyrics.
Doubt is many things. It is my annihilation. It is my preservation.
Doubt erodes, a steady stream of questioning which removes the face of well-worn notions, and it sculpts a new impression in old surfaces.
Doubt in its own nature embodies the biggest and most substantial conflict we know of: the chasm between permanence and stability, and change and chaos.
Every human being is a product of change. We originate as embryos, progressing through many stages, until a fully-grown adult form is realized. Each facet of our physical body is in flux: a multitude of cells appear and die each day within our body. Each facet of our consciousness and personality changes, too: throughout our interactions with other humans, we are molded and crafted in accordance with our fellow human beings. Their being is ours.
We depend on change to sustain us. If the seeds for our crops remain seeds, then we die. If the water which feeds many of our reservoirs remains snow or ice, then we die. If the rain which waters the crops remains water vapor in the sky, then we die.
Is it really true that we look for things to stay the same? We are surely blind to the immense changes which surround us in their exquisite insignificance.
We owe everything we have to change, but we seek to ground our lives in eternal truths. To doubt these truths, to chip away at them, is a betrayal of the truths towards which we aim. Our lives are bigger than this trivial nonsense. "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter", such great religious authorities as Yoda from Star Wars inform us.
Yet what exactly are we considering when we ponder these eternal truths? Our messages and teachings come to us from specific historical eras, and specific cultural contexts. Is it really appropriate to allow the message of Jesus, for example, to remain stale for two thousand years, when he castigated the religious leaders of his day for allowing the laws to become stale within their own hearts?
We humans express our knowledge and our truth through what we actively partake. We partake the body and the blood of truth, when we speak its voice for our times, when we allow our own doubts to refine and distill our beliefs and our values.
Doubt threatens to undo everything, but doubt also allows us to remember everything. Doubt allows us to exercise our faith, to propel ourselves upward, to participate again in the sacred enterprise - we are captivated by it and refreshed by it. We remember. We remember both why we believe now, and why we believed in the first place.
Certainty cannot exist without doubt, nor without change: for if we do not doubt, if we do not risk the possibility of change, then we forget why we are certain in the first place. When we forget to doubt, then we lose ourselves entirely. Our own desire for certainty enables change to erase ourselves: we become clean on the outside, but rotten within. Oh, you hypocrites, you brood of vipers...
Sunday, January 23, 2011
Religion and Social Consciousness
I'm participating in a book study of Kevin Roose's book "The Unlikely Disciple". So far, I have only read the first two chapters, so there is no need for any spoiler alerts. However, if you've read the book before, please don't tell me what happens! I want to keep a fresh perspective.
During discussion in our study group today, I heard two rather broad, very compelling questions which I would like to discuss further on this blog.
1. Agnostic college student Kevin Roose transfers from east-coast, secular Brown University to Jerry Falwell's evangelical proving grounds at Liberty University for a semester to discover a greater understanding of evangelical Christianity. However, to fit in without giving himself away as an outsider, Kevin adopts a double persona as a fellow evangelical Christian. Is this double life justified?
I believe Roose had no other choice but to adopt the character of an evangelical Christian if he really wanted to obtain an insider's understanding. Was this choice a duplicitous one, a charade, a fraud? Maybe, to some extent - but I accept that his choice was no more a lie than the choices most people make every day. Why are any of us Christian, Muslim, Jewish, agnostic, liberal, libertarian, conservative, socialist, etc? Can we honestly embrace our own ideas as superior without honestly trying to understand all of the other alternatives which surround us?
Most individuals adopt convenient labels and narratives to use in their everyday lives with less thought than Roose puts into his pseudo-identity. How we do know that we are not defrauding ourselves? How do we know that when call ourselves something, that we are being true to ourselves, and whether we can really accept what we claim to be true?
Further, I think the only good way to understand someone else's ideas or values is to understand their experiences - or, even better, share some of their experiences. It really is futile to ponder someone's arguments or points without understanding why and how the person arrived at that place. Roose is doing the best he can to genuinely understand evangelicalism - he walks in their path and sees with their own eyes, instead of merely tracing their footsteps and following the breadcrumbs left in their wake, as so many other people content themselves to do and believe that they have a good understanding when they most assuredly do not.
2. Do you believe that Roose's beliefs will change during his time at Liberty University? Will he convert to evangelical Christianity, or even modify some of his beliefs to those of his peers? Why or why not?
To me, after reading just the first two chapters of "The Unlikely Disciple", it's inevitable that Roose will change many of his ideas as a result of spending a semester at Liberty.
But why should he change? Doesn't he already have many of his own well-established ideas, honed over the course of his entire life thus far?
Perhaps.
However, there is a key observation I must make to establish why I believe change is inevitable for Kevin Roose: that consciousness is a social product, evolving constantly with changes in one's environment and interpersonal interaction.
I'm currently enrolled in a philosophy course called "Persons and Selves". The last two weeks we've been discussing at various points how an individual's consciousness is shaped by a person's relationships with other people - that a person who is isolated eventually will begin to lose his or her personality, and that individuals gain much of their consciousness and sense of personhood as a reflection of the acknowledgement which they receive from other people.
I predict that by immersing himself in an environment dominated by evangelical Christianity, that Roose will experience a changing consciousness as he is recognized by other Liberty students for his actions as an evangelical, and that over time, he will slowly feel more and more attuned to those forms of recognition, so that his beliefs will shift in a way which accords with his social environment.
The consciousness of a human being is not a static product. You are not who you were as a young child or as an adolescent. You're not who you were a year ago, or a week ago. You're not even who you were yesterday.
I'm not on the record as someone who is very religious. But maybe there is a possibility that there is some kind of divine force in or behind our Universe. I believe that if there is a sort of animating force, akin to what is understood widely as God, that this God-like force most likely is a Process, which works through other things in the world.
Look around us: everything is in flux, and nothing is ever the same. Heck, that's what it says in Ecclesiastes (and on classic rock stations, if you like The Byrds). There is a season...for everything under the Sun, for agnosticism at Brown, for who knows what at Liberty, for hoping the Jets win so you can laugh at the New England Patriots, to ruing the day one said that because the Jets have just demolished one's favorite football team in the playoffs...
During discussion in our study group today, I heard two rather broad, very compelling questions which I would like to discuss further on this blog.
1. Agnostic college student Kevin Roose transfers from east-coast, secular Brown University to Jerry Falwell's evangelical proving grounds at Liberty University for a semester to discover a greater understanding of evangelical Christianity. However, to fit in without giving himself away as an outsider, Kevin adopts a double persona as a fellow evangelical Christian. Is this double life justified?
I believe Roose had no other choice but to adopt the character of an evangelical Christian if he really wanted to obtain an insider's understanding. Was this choice a duplicitous one, a charade, a fraud? Maybe, to some extent - but I accept that his choice was no more a lie than the choices most people make every day. Why are any of us Christian, Muslim, Jewish, agnostic, liberal, libertarian, conservative, socialist, etc? Can we honestly embrace our own ideas as superior without honestly trying to understand all of the other alternatives which surround us?
Most individuals adopt convenient labels and narratives to use in their everyday lives with less thought than Roose puts into his pseudo-identity. How we do know that we are not defrauding ourselves? How do we know that when call ourselves something, that we are being true to ourselves, and whether we can really accept what we claim to be true?
Further, I think the only good way to understand someone else's ideas or values is to understand their experiences - or, even better, share some of their experiences. It really is futile to ponder someone's arguments or points without understanding why and how the person arrived at that place. Roose is doing the best he can to genuinely understand evangelicalism - he walks in their path and sees with their own eyes, instead of merely tracing their footsteps and following the breadcrumbs left in their wake, as so many other people content themselves to do and believe that they have a good understanding when they most assuredly do not.
2. Do you believe that Roose's beliefs will change during his time at Liberty University? Will he convert to evangelical Christianity, or even modify some of his beliefs to those of his peers? Why or why not?
To me, after reading just the first two chapters of "The Unlikely Disciple", it's inevitable that Roose will change many of his ideas as a result of spending a semester at Liberty.
But why should he change? Doesn't he already have many of his own well-established ideas, honed over the course of his entire life thus far?
Perhaps.
However, there is a key observation I must make to establish why I believe change is inevitable for Kevin Roose: that consciousness is a social product, evolving constantly with changes in one's environment and interpersonal interaction.
I'm currently enrolled in a philosophy course called "Persons and Selves". The last two weeks we've been discussing at various points how an individual's consciousness is shaped by a person's relationships with other people - that a person who is isolated eventually will begin to lose his or her personality, and that individuals gain much of their consciousness and sense of personhood as a reflection of the acknowledgement which they receive from other people.
I predict that by immersing himself in an environment dominated by evangelical Christianity, that Roose will experience a changing consciousness as he is recognized by other Liberty students for his actions as an evangelical, and that over time, he will slowly feel more and more attuned to those forms of recognition, so that his beliefs will shift in a way which accords with his social environment.
The consciousness of a human being is not a static product. You are not who you were as a young child or as an adolescent. You're not who you were a year ago, or a week ago. You're not even who you were yesterday.
I'm not on the record as someone who is very religious. But maybe there is a possibility that there is some kind of divine force in or behind our Universe. I believe that if there is a sort of animating force, akin to what is understood widely as God, that this God-like force most likely is a Process, which works through other things in the world.
Look around us: everything is in flux, and nothing is ever the same. Heck, that's what it says in Ecclesiastes (and on classic rock stations, if you like The Byrds). There is a season...for everything under the Sun, for agnosticism at Brown, for who knows what at Liberty, for hoping the Jets win so you can laugh at the New England Patriots, to ruing the day one said that because the Jets have just demolished one's favorite football team in the playoffs...
Monday, June 15, 2009
Strict Interpretation?
The First Amendment to the Constitution of the United States:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances"
The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States:
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Is it curious that some argue that strict constructionism be applied in the interpretation of the First Amendment, but not for the Second Amendment? And is it not also curious that some argue that strict constructionism be applied to the interpretation of the Second Amendment, but not for the First Amendment?
The NRA would likely contend that the 2nd Amendment extends thoroughly to individual rights. Many gun control advocates reply that the Amendment is really meant just for the more limited sense of a "well regulated Militia".
Many conservatives have argued that the 1st Amendment is more limited - Congress is only prohibited from establishing any one kind of religion, not prevented from establishing religious influence in general. Yet many others would reply that the 1st Amendment is really meant to protect all other kinds of individual rights in a broader sense of application.
So, those who argue that the 2nd Amendment should be applied broadly to individual rights, but not the 1st Amendment, why so? Also, those who argue that the 1st Amendment should be applied broadly to individual rights, but not the 2nd Amendment, why so?
I am not declaring or asserting that it is impossible to make such a justification - I just find it rather curious to seize onto a strict constructionism in one instance and seemingly abandon the same stance in another comparable instance.
Above all, please show your work. Thank you!
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances"
The Second Amendment to the Constitution of the United States:
"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed"
Is it curious that some argue that strict constructionism be applied in the interpretation of the First Amendment, but not for the Second Amendment? And is it not also curious that some argue that strict constructionism be applied to the interpretation of the Second Amendment, but not for the First Amendment?
The NRA would likely contend that the 2nd Amendment extends thoroughly to individual rights. Many gun control advocates reply that the Amendment is really meant just for the more limited sense of a "well regulated Militia".
Many conservatives have argued that the 1st Amendment is more limited - Congress is only prohibited from establishing any one kind of religion, not prevented from establishing religious influence in general. Yet many others would reply that the 1st Amendment is really meant to protect all other kinds of individual rights in a broader sense of application.
So, those who argue that the 2nd Amendment should be applied broadly to individual rights, but not the 1st Amendment, why so? Also, those who argue that the 1st Amendment should be applied broadly to individual rights, but not the 2nd Amendment, why so?
I am not declaring or asserting that it is impossible to make such a justification - I just find it rather curious to seize onto a strict constructionism in one instance and seemingly abandon the same stance in another comparable instance.
Above all, please show your work. Thank you!
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Happiness: Filling the Void
What makes us happy?
I've seen an interesting theory on happiness recently.
Someone said that all human beings have a void inside of us. We need to fill this void, and if we don't, our sense of purpose and our sense of meaning will atrophy. We fill it with work, we fill it with family, we fill it with music, we fill it with causes, we fill it work consumerism, and all kinds of other things, both tangible and intangible.
Some people say it's a bad thing that we have this void, but I disagree. I believe that our void motivates us. As a common proverb says, hunger is often the best seasoning.
What makes each of you happy? Do you believe that this "void" theory makes any sense? How do you fill your void?
Thanks for sharing your opinions.
I've seen an interesting theory on happiness recently.
Someone said that all human beings have a void inside of us. We need to fill this void, and if we don't, our sense of purpose and our sense of meaning will atrophy. We fill it with work, we fill it with family, we fill it with music, we fill it with causes, we fill it work consumerism, and all kinds of other things, both tangible and intangible.
Some people say it's a bad thing that we have this void, but I disagree. I believe that our void motivates us. As a common proverb says, hunger is often the best seasoning.
What makes each of you happy? Do you believe that this "void" theory makes any sense? How do you fill your void?
Thanks for sharing your opinions.
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