Tyler--alright, it seemed like a question worth hacking at ...
Tyler
An interestingly astute point:
I get more and more confused.
Theists say 'you just have a closed mind to religion'
Some atheists say 'you just have a closed mind to facts'
How do either of you keep the faith? How, when so many people can say they have the exact same inner feeling you do for the complete opposite thing, do you maintain that your view is the only right one?
The question for atheists that is starting to crystallize for me is, in vague expression,
Where do you put your foot down?
That is, atheists have reminded me of late that the cold and detrimental devotion to pseudo-objectivity is not typical of the experience. Apparently I should take it on faith that my observation and experience is wrong.
But atheists
seem to make a common mistake in separating religion from, say, myth. In teaching as an academic subject, the states of myth and religion require slightly different considerations, but what are old myths but yesterday's religions?
No religion can be validated; but that search for validation is a distraction resulting from undereducation. It is only in the last two or three centuries that scientific knowledge, starting with Newton, has provided a God that people feel incompatible with nature. That is, somewhere along the line, it stopped being about discovering the reality of God's universe, and became the assumption of God and His attributes amid a quest to "prove" God. I would advise to put the whole atheist/theist (read atheist/Abramic) dichotomy out of mind.
Atheists may have a "closed mind" toward religion, but they're largely open-minded to other things that cannot be proven. Some believe in ghosts, some in Ufos, ad infinitum.
Adam and I recently exchanged points regarding atheism that have some bearing here.
It seems to me that atheism draws a slightly-selfish line. That is, subjective principles such as economy, love, state, and so forth, may be taken as factual, but religion should not be. This is well enough, but largely reactionary to the religionists. Within economy, love, and state, the sacrifices made by any person have tangible results in the tangible world. So where state, economy, or love might dictate one's actions, this is acceptable because one receives liberty, finance, or love. From God, though, the reward comes afterward, and there is no reason to limit one's behavior in accordance with an unproven principle unless there's a tangible reward in the tangible world.
And that's where the relation 'twixt myth and religion reasserts itself.
The US dollar, for instance, is a myth. You can tell me all about formulae and markets and economy, but despite the fact that nobody can tell me exactly what a dollar is worth at any given moment nor how they reached that conclusion, the reality of it is that if we woke up tomorrow and nobody wanted to use the dollar, it would instantly become worthless. In a border state (Washington) we see a fair amount of Canadian money. It is up to the merchant to deal with it. Some of their banks have good exchange facilities, so there would be no problem including Canuck money in the deposit. Some of their banks don't want to provide that service for them, so the money of our northern neighbors is useless in those establishments. Likewise, there are some who are simply too dumb to figure the difference, so they don't want it. In the age of networking, it will soon be that one's IBM POS (point-of-sale, not what I usually mean by POS) system can take the immediate market exchange off the network. At that point, the decision to not take any particular currency will be an choice as compared to a business necessity. Well, the unstable currencies, sure ... red flags will come from the network like the four horsemen, but all I can tell you about the dollar today is that just under three of them gets me a loaf of bread, one and a half of them gets me a liter of grape soda, and forty of 'em gets me 3.3 grams of marijuana.
State authority is also a myth. In the
Declaration of Independence, for instance, there is this vital bit:
We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed--That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
That is,
state is a myth, a convention of the people. Think of our occasional separatists who pick up guns or bombs and take on the government. What happens if one day a majority of the people are sick of it and choose to defy the government? Tanks and missiles and guns, oh, my! But in the end, the myth is easy to track through history.
It's the realization of the fallacy of human institutions that is helpful here. Too many people, educated in a specific religious paradigm, simply accept the myth without question. The countermovement (e.g. atheism) is largely focused on the movement (e.g. Christianity). Yet in the end neither side will deny that there are mysteries about the Universe.
I'm an advocate of the notion that religion, by nature, encompasses and deifies the things we don't know. To know God is to know the contents of that mystery; in other words, to know God is to understand what is mysterious and unknown. One should not let the unknown dictate their actions, but I think the Creationism fight should suffice as an example.
If we say that "God created the Universe", that's a fine statement as far as I'm concerned. If we say that God did this according to Genesis, or Bhagavad-Gita, or that the Spider Woman or the Ancient Ones or the Elder Gods or any such restriction of conditions, we are asserting myth as fact.
I assert that both the theist and the atheist who do such rhetorical combat are both missing the point. The atheist is reacting to the wrongness of the theist, and so they're both arguing about something that is not correct in the first place. (In the broader term, though, when religion approaches bodies of law and governance, I side wholeheartedly with the atheists.)
The need to be "right" is a human need. It isn't enough for people to contribute, but, much like
Loone's ridiculous posts, they need to be noticed for their contributions.
Throw out all of it,
Tyler; that's my recommendation. It is, indeed, a scary fight. But the best way to win this fight is to not take part in it. For instance, that I maintain a religious structure at all, regardless of how disorganized it is, comes down to a single point:
•
Communication
Watch our atheists and theists do battle. In practical matters, what does such combat accomplish? Pretty much nothing.
I have never found a religious structure which reflects enough truth to compel me to voluntarily adhere to it. But I've also found that in the pseudo-objective world of atheism, there is something missing from the human process.
I found that, among the atheists, I was unable to communicate satisfactorily, since even without gods, there is so much of life that is intangible or vague.
One cannot communicate with another when standing at the polar opposite. To simply argue about whether or not there is a God doesn't help anyone. Rather, though, to speak (for instance) to a Christian, I am still communicating in terms (e.g. religious principle) that they understand. To simply tell them "No, there's no God" is a sad lack of effort. But to make them think about "Why does God say _____ if he also says _____ and how do you reconcile the seemingly opposite parts?" leaves an opening for that Christian to advance both in their faith and knowledge. With enough care and communication, it is possible to extract someone from the throes of Christianity, but it's a long process that takes much patience and frankly, the virtue of patience isn't objective enough for the atheistic world. Or so says me.
I've always said that the primary difference 'twixt myself and an atheist is largely a matter of vocabulary. It's also what ideas are present as a result of that vocabulary.
I mean, really ... if atheism was truly objective (and, for this point, cohesive), it would throw out the convention of human equality and advocate an organized society that achieves a species-related goal, and not individual goals. But we know that atheists do respond to such subjectivities as right and inequality. It seems to me, though, that by acknowledging those subjectivities, the atheist gets something in return. The atheist gets nothing from acknowledging God.
By and large the underlying issue is a human one, and not one of labels. People keep the faith because they feel they have to. It's more important to be recognized or acknowledged as being right (correct) than it is to actually be correct.
Both the theist and the atheist camps require a certain amount of flexibility. After all, atheists attacking the idea of religion are largely attacking the Christian portion of the Abramic experience and extending those faults to all religions. There is a lack of information in almost any human judgment, and that, more than Christ's admonition, is the best reason for a person to not pass judgment.
For religious reading, I recommend
Gibran and Idries Shah's
Dervish Tales among others. For more academic perspectives, the usual sources I cite have truly proven enlightening to me (Pagels, Russell, Armstrong, Davidson, &c.) I also recommend Polly Trout's
Eastern Seeds, Western Soil. From Polly's contribution to
Killing the Buddha's debate on Bush's
Divine Economy:
What matters to a lot of people is religion. Or, to put it another way, "religion" is what we call our attempts, as human beings, to figure out what matters and how to live a meaningful, dignified life.
The reason for the reading list, I suppose, is a persistent feeling I have that far too many people judge what, for instance. the Bible means, and apply that definition to all people's perspective. Such a process usually results in that flabbergasting,
Why can't you see what's obvious? sentiment. I share, as an anthropologically functional perspective, Dr Trout's sentiment
boldfaced above.
Thus, too often, we're looking at the religious debate in too immediate of terms. Even in dealing with a Southern Baptist in 2002, one owes the theology some considerations toward the Catholics of, say, the 12th century. The seemingly nonsensical aspects of faith can be explained largely in history in terms of psychological evolution. What, for instance, does the book of Matthew have to do with burning people at the stake?
Then he will say to those at his left hand, `Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me no drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not clothe me, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' Then they also will answer, `Lord, when did we see thee hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not minister to thee?' Then he will answer them, `Truly, I say to you, as you did it not to one of the least of these, you did it not to me.' And they will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." (Matthew 25.41-ff)
I still can't explain how holocaust saves the soul from the Devil, but really--if you don't denounce your best friend when you suspect them of witchcraft, then you are leaving one of the least of His to the clutches of the Devil. Or, so says that interpretation of Matthew.
I'm a fan of Denis Diderot's statement, and one which I came across when looking for an old post of mine:
Whether or not God exists, it has truly become the most sublime and useless of mysteries.
Consider, for instance, this portion of the
manifesto at Killing the Buddha:
The idea of "killing the Buddha" comes from a famous Zen line, the context of which is easy to imagine: After years on his cushion, a monk has what he believes is a breakthrough: an experience of nirvana, the Buddhamind, the big pay-off. Reporting the experience to his master, however, he is informed that what he has experienced is par for the course, nothing special, maybe even damaging to his pursuit. And then he is given dismaying advice: If you meet the Buddha, he is told, kill him.
Why kill the Buddha? Because the Buddha you meet is not the true Buddha, but an expression of your longing. If this Buddha is not killed he will only stand in your way.
Why Killing the Buddha? For our purposes, killing the Buddha is a metaphor for moving past the complacency of belief, for struggling honestly with the idea of God. As people who take faith seriously, we are endlessly amazed and enraged that religious discourse has become so bloodless, parochial and boring. Any God worth the name is none of these things. Yet when people talk about God they are talking mainly about the Buddha they meet. For fear of seeming intolerant or uncertain, or just for lack of thinking, they talk about a God too small to be God.
Killing the Buddha is about finding a way to be religious when we're all so self-conscious and self-absorbed. Knowing more than ever about ourselves and the way the world works, we gain nothing through nostalgia for a time when belief was simple, and even less from insisting that now is such a time. Killing the Buddha will ask, How can we be religious without leaving part of ourselves at the church or temple door? How can we love God when we know it doesn't matter if we do? Call it God for the godless. Call it the search for a God we can believe in: A God that will not be an embarrassment in twelve-thousand years. A God we can talk about without qualifications.
(For the record, at this point in this post, I've lost a little of my focus and am now seeking any way back to the start, or, at least, out of the hole ... rather, re: your question in another topic, such is the danger of one-draft writing.
)
The short answer to your query I've noted above is that it depends on each individual to decide what is important and how important it is to them. As you see, the defeat of God is important to some people in the same way the glory of God is. My "religion" allows me a certain passage of communication with my neighbors that does not otherwise exist. That passage of communication is important enough to me to maintain. For others, the criteria may not be so direct.
It's a puzzle. Essentially something about what you don't know, and how (and whether) you wish to go about learning it.
In history we have
Know thyself,
Know thy enemy,
Love thy enemy and
Love thy neighbor. Notice what's missing?
Love thyself. If people can't move such a principle beyond basic hedonism, they ought not bother thinking at all. But, as Rilke wrote to Kappus,
your innermost happening is worth all your love.
In the end, what is important? Dominion or peace? How can one love the neighbor or enemy if one does not love the self? How, in other words, can you give away what you do not have to give?
And therein we find what I consider an essential functional question.
Um ... and if that doesn't confuse you
more than you were, good. Otherwise, well, it seemed like a question worth taking a hack at
thanx much,
Tiassa