Judges and judgment
Michael said:
In modern multicultural societies, what good comes from the twin concepts of One God and One True book?
We'll come back to the issue of good, but for the moment it should be noted that monotheism is essentially a
necessary theistic philosophical step in a quest for sublimity. That is, if you're going to have theism among a consciousness well-described by its ability to organize and classify, one should expect that the outlook will eventually demand some sort of hierarchy, and once that idea develops, monotheism is inevitable. Polytheism is essentially complicated monotheism. That is, if you have a sun god, why is s/he the sun god and not the moon, or the lightning, or the wind? What holds the gods in place? What fixes their finite attributes? The
answer to that is the hidden monotheistic source in polytheism. As with the Greeks: first chaos, then time and order, then gods. There is, hidden within chaos and time, God.
Wouldn't it be much better to teach kids there may, or may not, be lots of different Gods and Goddesses and Alien Overlords? And that all of these religious books are equally as valid as the next?
But they're
not. Abramism, Hinduism, Buddhism, Dao, and other longstanding, classic religions have about them a certain sense of anthropological and psychological riddle. Comparatively, faith in EBE overlords is a nascent religion that may or may not survive. The difference between a religion and a faery tale is in what people
do with the ideas. Religion is one of humankind's earliest artistic endeavors.
Which brings us back, nearly, to the issue of good. Before the scientific era, gods and spirits were
real to the people who experienced them. Most of the faithful people we know today are adulterated by science; part of their religious neurosis is reconciling the fantastic aspects with reality, or else keeping reality closed to only one such egregious violation. As we see with Abramic fundamentalists, the farther one withdraws from the rational Universe, the less capably one interacts with the human endeavor.
There is a lot invested in religion. There
are logical schemes occurring within its confines. Rhetorically speaking, atheists simply disagree with the presuppositions at the outset, e.g., God exists, &c. But each god exists as a centerpiece—a justification—for a logical scheme within the religious structure. That the structure is so unstable is its own problem, but comparatively the instability within classic religions is considerably less than the nascent. There is no fixed pantheon of alien overlords yet. There is no time-tested cultural ability to define, preserve, and respond to the theology of alien overlords. And, rationally speaking, that time-tested cultural ability of classic religions to define, preserve, and respond to both theology and circumstance is a testament to its value.
The good that arises from the transmission of religious faith—of which monotheism is an inevitable product, thus demanding the transmission of one god and one book—is found in its social organization. The ability of the faith to redefine itself in response to circumstance is its testament in this context. The challenge is to redefine the faith in an evolutionarily beneficial manner; recent history has moved so quickly as to test human capacity for adjustment, hence the weakness of religious faith and the rise of atheism, nihilism, and neurosis. The same forces driving Christian faith into crisis are also vital to understanding the medication of American society; between booze, street drugs, and prescriptions for brain candy, more and more people are looking to chemistry for insight and comfort. It is very hard to adjust to the nearly amorphous demands of life and reality, as circumstantial and thematic demands are transitory and evolving. And here is where the religions meet crisis.
From the ancients up to Newton, science was in a state of flux as it related to mystical tendencies among people. From Newton forward, nature has crept steadily within reach. Newton stole the mechanics of nature from God, but the cyclical transformation of faith and knowledge has accelerated in centuries since. The nineteenth century saw Darwin unhinge human perceptions of life; Marx broke the human perception of society; Freud transformed the human perception of humanity itself. The beginning of the twentieth century saw Christianity struggling to maintain a tenuous grasp on nature. Endowed by God, we were, to be its masters. By the end of the twentieth century, humanity faced the question of global warming. We still struggle with the question of whether or not we can be so influential in nature, but also that we can be so nakedly subject to its forces.
The question, going forward, is what monotheistic faith offers. If the answer is more of what we've seen in recent decades, Abramism will continue its descent into crisis, and in its very human way try to take as many people with it as possible. What can people do? What seems like radical change could have been handled more progressively over the last couple centuries; there is a backlog. Even as such, had these issues been handled in stride, they would still be tremendously challenging. From the Greeks to Newton, the adjustment required how many societies, and how many years? Even the gap from Newton to Marx was comparatively short, and from there Darwin and Freud. By the time we get to Einstein in the twentieth century, the faithful have no idea what to think. They did not adapt well, but as with any such human undertaking, they still can.
Atheistic inquiry is quickly ossifying around several erroneous presuppositions. There is a very fixed, atemporal aspect about the presuppositions very reminiscent of religious faith. The question at hand in this thread suggests inflexibility insofar as it is most comprehensible according to the terms of an exceptionally short period of theological history. One can easily look at the disarray in religious communities today and find plenty to criticize, but the human limitations of any given body faithful do not accurately describe the philosophical limitations of the faith. In history and prehistory alike, transmission of religious faith offered a metaphorical torch to light the way and pass on to the next generation of explorers. It is not unjust to wonder if the religious templates of old have served their purpose, as human circumstances present challenges unthinkable to the original traditions. But we cannot presume the problem with the picture is the brush, canvas, or paints, until we understand the capabilities of any given painter.
If we look at the faith, and not the faithful, the answers emerge in terms of art, psychology, and anthropology. If we look at the faithful exclusively, we both witness and engage in a human tragedy of epic proportions. Rational critics
can find a rational approach to understanding the relationship between faith and faithful, but it's not easy, it's not a static phenomenon, and it's not something a whole lot of critical atheists are undertaking these days.