Getting Beyond Mendacity

On the fifth anniversary of the 9/11 attacks Newsweek ran an article questioning the role of religion in the deeds, not only of 9/11, but for many thousands of similar atrocities that have occurred throughout history. The analysis got my attention because it placed emphasis on the epistemological methods of the religious mind. "Tell a devout Christian ... that frozen yogurt can make a man invisible, and he is likely to require as much evidence as anyone else, and to be persuaded only to the extent that you give it. Tell him that the book he keeps by his bed was written by an invisible deity who will punish him with fire for eternity if he fails to accept its every incredible claim about the universe, and he seems to require no evidence whatsoever."

It may be argued that the word "devout" nuances the remark so significantly that it might apply only to Christians of the Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson ilk, but there is no Christian of any persuasion who does not ground his beliefs in one or more of the "incredible claim[s]" of scripture.

In a discussion with several acquaintances about the article, one of them, a frequent commenter on this blog, made this statement: "So what do you care? If you don't believe the way that I do why do you care what I think about hell or God or salvation?" The person who made the statement had not grasped that the Newsweek article did not deal with what he or any other person believes, but rather how he came to that belief and why he thinks it's valid.

Now, I grant you that when we attempt to trace any belief about ultimate reality to its source, we eventually come to a place we cannot get beyond. Some cause-like things must forever remain unknown for the simple reason that the records have been obliterated. The Big Bang -- which perhaps ought to be called "the great evidence shredder" -- took care of a lot of that destruction. For very practical reasons we cannot go beyond that point in our search for reality, but that fact has not put the quietus to the human imagination. We can still believe things for which no valid reason exists.

But as I said, I'm not concerned with beliefs as such, but only with the method used to form them. A person may, for example, experience a deep and meaningful joy in believing that The Koran is the final word of God, and may place great faith in the men-more-learned-than-I who interpret the words of The Prophet in such a way as to justify the killing of all non-repentant infidels. The joy the person experiences provides evidence enough for him to "know," beyond the shadow of a doubt, that it is okay to fly airplanes into tall buildings.

On the other hand, the person may be of a Christian persuasion and may have had a direct and joyful experience of God, inspired by certain statements from the Bible. Because this Christian gentleman is not flying airplanes into tall buildings, because he is in fact leading an ideal Christian life and enjoying the rewards that usually accrue to the pious, the joy of his experience vouches for and reinforces his belief in the authenticity of the written words that inspired it. He has arrived at a knowledge of the truth by way of his feelings. Joy has convinced him.

It may never occur to the Christian convinced by his feelings that he and the Muslim terrorist share the same epistemology. They both believe something simply because if feels good.

What does this say, then, about all religious beliefs? Are they all grounded in emotions?

Well no. Some are grounded in axioms that may or may not be true. John 3:16 is such an axiom. "For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life." True, those who immediately believe this axiom experience a sort of joy that may be likened to the joy experienced by those who have a direct experience of God. But the source of that joy is so easily seen as superficial -- who wouldn't get joy from everlasting life? -- most religionists who think at all are not persuaded simply by John's promise. They might then assume the statement to be true and seek to work out a reasoned "plan of salvation" grounded in the notions (1) that God cares, and (2) that God cares enough that he would sacrifice his son. (We leave unquestioned the means by which God sired the son.) A complex theology (or Christology) follows: original sin, redemption from sin by blood sacrifice, eternal life, etc etc. If that theology works, it also will produce a certain sort of joy. The superficial joy obtained by believing in life everlasting is now intensified by a reasonable workout explaining everything.

But by grounding his belief in a reasoned theology the Christian has opened his belief to the normal criticisms aimed at all reasoned systems. The most fundamental of those criticisms involves the fact that all genuine axioms are unproven and unprovable, and consequently, they need some way to test their validity. One way lies in applying the axioms to real world models of known authenticity. We may ask, as the Corinthians asked Paul, questions about the nature of the afterlife, what form the body shall take after the resurrection? The answer, as delivered by Paul, required the creation of another axiom, another unproven and unprovable "fact": The "incorruptible" soul alone shall be resurrected. From this has naturally followed "disputations" and "concerns" lest the "whosoever" referred to in John's promise be not flesh and blood as was seen in the risen Christ, but some other sort of "person," the nature of which remains (to this day) mysterious.

As more and more axioms are created to resolve "concerns" we eventually arrive at a system so shot through with unproven and unprovable statements that we would be justified in calling it "imagined" rather than "reasoned."

Nevertheless, experiences of God are real. To deny their reality would be to deny the reported experiences of millions. They occur to believers of all religions and have generally been interpreted as experiences of another world. Such experiences are of two sorts. One comes without form or shape, only as a feeling as if we were suddenly filled with great knowledge and the whole of eternity were opened to us. Another form of the God-experience is more like a vision, a seen view in which objects appear: faces, gates, clouds, great lights. This second sort of experience also conveys to us a feeling of great knowledge or power, and so may be understood as a conditioned form of the first sort of experience. A Christian might experience gates and faces like those artists have created for Jesus. (Paul himself heard only a voice.) A Hindu might see Nirvana unfolding as an altogether different experience, filled with symbols from his own real-world life.

But when we finally judge the reality of these experiences, we see that it is the experience that is real, and not the things (if any) which appeared in the experience. We have had what the Buddhists call satori, an ineffable experience of the "All."

I mention these apparently diversionary details to introduce the possibility that there may in fact be a ground greater than mere joy that can be appealed to as a justification for some forms of religion. If we forget the joy, and focus only upon the imageless content of the satori, we see that it has something to do with knowing, more to do with a sense of totality, and all to do with an awareness of ourselves as a part of whatever eternity is. We experience ourselves as if we were infinite.

So, what sort of axioms might we concoct that would explain our experience. Well, we might try these two: (1) the All is infinite, and (2) we relate to the All as effects in an infinite stream of causes and effects. Then, if we feel the need -- born in our culture -- to have a God, we may consider ourselves as natural and necessary parts of an infinite God. And we may do this without too much fear that our axioms will be subject to disapproval, since to disprove them, one would have to reach the end point of an infinity, a point which does not exist.

And this is what some folks call natural religion, a religion that does not require us to doubt the reality of what seems most real to us. True, this religion may not provide us an eternal life, but if we are already parts of an infinite being, we must in some very real sense already have eternal life. Just a thought, but one that has an appeal, both to what is undoubtedly real and that which will forever remain mysterious to the living.