In all the Old Testament the most convincing evidence for God’s existence and for mankind’s actual encounter with God is the answer given by the burning bush to Moses’ question, “What is your name?” It answered, “I am I am.” Consider the implications of that reply. It implies that there is only one God, because otherwise God would need to have a name to be set apart from other gods. Consider Moses' motivation in asking the question. If he knew there was only one God, he would surely have known He would need no name. Instead he actually assumed that "I am I am" (Yahweh) is this god’s name as have generations after him. They believe this so sincerely that saying the name Yahweh was forbidden for a very long time because to say the name of a God was to summon Him and could have dire consequences (even today using the word God carelessly is considered a curse and is not acceptable in polite company).
Consider the original author of this story of Moses and his encounter with the Almighty. Could he have meant for it be a comedic representation of a person’s confrontation with his Creator (aside from Moses' credulity in accepting a bush as a god)? The first human response would naturally be to try to gain control of the situation despite any protestations and gestures of submission he might make. What better way to take control of the situation than to determine the identity of the deity one is dealing with and, through that link, to establish some measure of continued control, even if it is only the ability to get the attention of that particular deity by calling His name? In the story Moses assumes he has learned God’s name, when in fact God had said something like, “Moses, I know who I am. You do not need to know who I am. You only need to know that I am the only God there is. I don’t need a name.”
In olden times a favorite form of humor and of justice was for the guilty to condemn himself by inadvertently judging himself. A good example would be David’s admission that he had wronged the husband of Bathsheba. Moses condemned himself (as we still condemn ourselves to this day) by admitting he did not really believe in only one god. Instead of proclaiming the existence of one God without a name, he returned to Egypt asserting that he knew the name of a god and that that god had revealed himself as the God of the Forgotten, of the slaves of Egypt. The humor is in the arrogance of Moses (humanity) in assuming to have outwitted God by acquiring His name.
The depth of perception of the original author of this revelation is in the recognition that God, of course, knows who He is but it is next to impossible for Him to communicate that information to our petty, self-serving minds. The Christian New Testament suggests that Jesus, when asked who he was, answered, “I am I am,” when he was taken into custody just before his execution. It is interesting that a human could sincerely and correctly make such a statement. “Who am I?” is a question we ask ourselves daily, and we really think we know. Let’s explore that humorous assumption.
Rene Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am.” The immediate question is “Who or what is this ‘I’ that is doing the thinking? The answer gets complicated even more by what we think we know than by what we actually do know and what we actually do know is confusing enough all by itself. Philosophers have pretty much agreed that our “self” (our “I”) exists apart from our physical bodies. Some even suggest it is all that exists, and that what we perceive as physical reality does not exist. What we see probably is shaped by our personal point of view and so does not really exist, but there does seem to be something out there around which we wrap our perceptions. However, philosophers seem to see our “self awareness” either as sparks or as emanations from a common source (theologians would say God, but philosophers would probably not be so specific).
If we are godlike sparks of self awareness, then we have volition and can be held accountable for our actions, for we are separated from God. (Theologians speculate that these sparks within us are striving to return to the source from whence they came and offer suggestions as to how we might facilitate that return.) If we are, however, Godlike emanations or tendrils of self-awareness rather than sparks of divinity, then being directly connected to the source (God), our volition is from God and our perception of self is an illusion. (Some theologians call these emanations souls which are separate from our awareness of ourselves, and they maintain that, though all of us are self aware, only some of us have been chosen (are connected to God by these tendrils) to return to the source of our souls [God].)
Science suggests something quite different, and consequently has sparked a desperate reaction from the religious community these past few years. Scientific discovery suggests that the something around which we wrap our perceptions is all that exists, and that we (our “self awareness”) do not exist. We are therefore figments of our own imagination; our “self awareness” is a virtual reality generated by the body’s ability to store information and to organize that information for the purposes of survival (appropriate responses to external stimuli). Consequently, when the body is no longer able to store, or even maintain, memory (there would as a result of our body’s death be no stored information left to organize), our “self awareness,” which never really existed in the first place, ceases to function (from our perspective, “ceases to exist”).
Quite frankly, I have to go with science on this one. I do not believe that God exists, nor do I believe that we (the self) exist. On the bright side, it would seem we have something in common with God after all. Neither of us exists. I understand that this, in a sense, jerks the carpet out from under anyone who takes this quandary seriously, but I have never been obsessed with whether or not God exists, though I did have some hopes for myself and am consequently a little disappointed. However, as a person of faith I leave the resolution of this problem to God. I will continue to find out as much as I can about how what has already been created works and pursue means by which I can adjust it somewhat (to my advantage, of course).
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Job (Addled Essence)
The house on the hill is haunted. It was haunted then, and it is haunted still. I walked its halls and I saw its shadows, and I ran away. As I look back at its blackened windows, I feel myself running even now, with its shadows close behind me. I turn my back on the hill I climbed so long ago and walk slowly away. I feel the windows watching me as I turn the corner out of their sight, but not beyond their silent call, “Come back! Come back!” If only I could.
It started with the jolly policeman laughing at a little boy’s fears. My friends and I watched as he entered the huge front door, and we listened as the silence ran into years. He did not return.
We would have left, but we loved him for the high fly balls and the kittens rescued from trees too high to climb. We slowly pushed aside the door and cowered in. He was sleeping at the window desk. Laughing, we shook him hard, but his face was stuck solid to the top. We ran, leaving our friend alone and dead.
No one remembered him. Not one person in town knew him. No such smiling policeman had ever walked our block, only an angry, sullen man we’d never seen before.
And so we made a pact to face the house. We couldn’t bring him back, but we were determined to discover whatever it was that had melted him into the furnishings of that malevolent place and punish it for taking away someone who had given us so much. How we were going to do this was not really clear, but boyhood bravado sufficed. We were sure we would somehow prevail. At the door my friends were not so brave. They watched as I went in alone.
I walked into the silence, sick and feeling doomed, with only pride pushing me on. The sun shone through the windows bright and still. The huge room inside the house was peaceful and beautiful with dust motes dancing in the rays of light and trees smiling their autumn leaves through huge windows. The silence was complete. I couldn’t even hear my own footsteps as I climbed the stairs.
I crept into the room to the left at the top with its dusty furniture and the faces of my friends peering up at the window, unable it seemed to see me or to hear me when I called. They looked small and afraid.
I opened the dresser drawer, and a baby’s face peered up at me and slowly smiled. I leaped back slamming the drawer back in. I looked around. No one! No sound. Had I seen it? I couldn’t open that drawer again. As fear squeezed me, feeling small and helpless, trembling, I furtively opened the next drawer, somehow knowing the baby would be there too. It was!
I ran to the door and jerked it open. I almost walked into the closet where a toddler stood smiling up at me. Shaking so hard I could barely grasp the closet door, I pushed it shut and leaned against it. Tears and sweat were running together on my face as terror caused my muscles to jump nowhere, everything that was me to drain into the floor.
I staggered to the window and tore it open. I would have jumped to my friends below, but hanging from the window by his fingers and smiling up at me was a little boy. I pushed his fingers from the sill and his startled face faded into thin air.
A middle-aged woman tried to stop me as I ran from the room. She seemed mildly surprised at my terror. I began to sing as she reached for me. I called upon all the strength of my childhood loneliness when I sang softly alone in my room as the shadows closed in, “What a friend I have in Jesus….” Startled, and a little hurt it seemed, she stepped back. I turned and practically fell down the stairs getting away from her. I flew out the front door and past my friends who didn’t even look at me. They just stared at the house as I hurtled by.
I wonder what they saw. I wonder if they followed me into the house. I wonder what they found. I wonder where they’ve gone.
No one remembers them. My companions now are cold, and they hurt me when they can. My friends would never have allowed that, nor would I have let anything bad happen to them. But they are gone, so gone they’ve never been.
Footnote: In the story above I have attempted to rewrite (with an obvious existential twist) what I believe to be the origin of the Job story. In my opinion, the original story tried to portray the trustworthiness of a good God given the actual situations with which many of us must deal. It appears to approach the problem without a malevolent Satan and without a loving God. This is good mythology, and it is realistic. Satan is a simple solution with sharp edges, but it is actually no solution at all, and love is a selfish emotion which, though it may be an accurate portrayal of our feelings toward God, is insulting when we accuse God of loving (needing) us.
The happy ending to the Biblical Job story turns a very perceptive insight into little more than a fairy tale when, in fact, I believe it was originally an attempt to describe our struggle not so much with faith as with trust.
It started with the jolly policeman laughing at a little boy’s fears. My friends and I watched as he entered the huge front door, and we listened as the silence ran into years. He did not return.
We would have left, but we loved him for the high fly balls and the kittens rescued from trees too high to climb. We slowly pushed aside the door and cowered in. He was sleeping at the window desk. Laughing, we shook him hard, but his face was stuck solid to the top. We ran, leaving our friend alone and dead.
No one remembered him. Not one person in town knew him. No such smiling policeman had ever walked our block, only an angry, sullen man we’d never seen before.
And so we made a pact to face the house. We couldn’t bring him back, but we were determined to discover whatever it was that had melted him into the furnishings of that malevolent place and punish it for taking away someone who had given us so much. How we were going to do this was not really clear, but boyhood bravado sufficed. We were sure we would somehow prevail. At the door my friends were not so brave. They watched as I went in alone.
I walked into the silence, sick and feeling doomed, with only pride pushing me on. The sun shone through the windows bright and still. The huge room inside the house was peaceful and beautiful with dust motes dancing in the rays of light and trees smiling their autumn leaves through huge windows. The silence was complete. I couldn’t even hear my own footsteps as I climbed the stairs.
I crept into the room to the left at the top with its dusty furniture and the faces of my friends peering up at the window, unable it seemed to see me or to hear me when I called. They looked small and afraid.
I opened the dresser drawer, and a baby’s face peered up at me and slowly smiled. I leaped back slamming the drawer back in. I looked around. No one! No sound. Had I seen it? I couldn’t open that drawer again. As fear squeezed me, feeling small and helpless, trembling, I furtively opened the next drawer, somehow knowing the baby would be there too. It was!
I ran to the door and jerked it open. I almost walked into the closet where a toddler stood smiling up at me. Shaking so hard I could barely grasp the closet door, I pushed it shut and leaned against it. Tears and sweat were running together on my face as terror caused my muscles to jump nowhere, everything that was me to drain into the floor.
I staggered to the window and tore it open. I would have jumped to my friends below, but hanging from the window by his fingers and smiling up at me was a little boy. I pushed his fingers from the sill and his startled face faded into thin air.
A middle-aged woman tried to stop me as I ran from the room. She seemed mildly surprised at my terror. I began to sing as she reached for me. I called upon all the strength of my childhood loneliness when I sang softly alone in my room as the shadows closed in, “What a friend I have in Jesus….” Startled, and a little hurt it seemed, she stepped back. I turned and practically fell down the stairs getting away from her. I flew out the front door and past my friends who didn’t even look at me. They just stared at the house as I hurtled by.
I wonder what they saw. I wonder if they followed me into the house. I wonder what they found. I wonder where they’ve gone.
No one remembers them. My companions now are cold, and they hurt me when they can. My friends would never have allowed that, nor would I have let anything bad happen to them. But they are gone, so gone they’ve never been.
Footnote: In the story above I have attempted to rewrite (with an obvious existential twist) what I believe to be the origin of the Job story. In my opinion, the original story tried to portray the trustworthiness of a good God given the actual situations with which many of us must deal. It appears to approach the problem without a malevolent Satan and without a loving God. This is good mythology, and it is realistic. Satan is a simple solution with sharp edges, but it is actually no solution at all, and love is a selfish emotion which, though it may be an accurate portrayal of our feelings toward God, is insulting when we accuse God of loving (needing) us.
The happy ending to the Biblical Job story turns a very perceptive insight into little more than a fairy tale when, in fact, I believe it was originally an attempt to describe our struggle not so much with faith as with trust.
Trust
This story I heard as a child. There were Beasts before they were Men who, when their children reached the age of puberty, would throw them into a pit. Those who desperately tried to climb out would be killed. Those who restrained their passion (panic), who trusted that the adults would return for them, were spared. Thus we evolved. Today, when our life can get no worse, and yet it does, we trust (we hope) and we endure.
From an evolutionist point of view our instincts are chemical reactions that have so successfully contributed to our survival that they continue to influence, and often determine, our behavior still today. Their success is so obvious that their continued influence is interpreted as purpose-driven insomuch as they manifest themselves as the drive to survive. This, of course, is linguistically misleading. Chemical reactions do not have volition. They do not occur to accomplish a purpose. They simply do what they do because what they do contributes towards their continuing to do so. The ability to store information allows our body to refine these chemical reactions into responses to our environment that further contribute to our survival, but much of this stored memory is reflexive and not accessible to our conscious behavior. Thus we remain unaware of its influence upon us and tend to interpret the source of our feelings as being outside of ourselves, as a kind of spirit that permeates us. This has led to some interesting, yet deceitful, philosophical speculations.
Relationships are a particular manifestation of this spirit that is not us but is part of us. In relationships we are able to see others as we see ourselves, a kind of projection of ourselves into others. We see this at an early age in what is called mirroring through which, rather than projecting ourselves into others, we incorporate others into ourselves and mirror their behavior. Watching children as they perfectly imitate the behavior of their parent is an amusing example of this behavior. As we grow older and more independent, this mirroring factor of intimacy projects rather than absorbs and, instead of us becoming the other person, the other person becomes us. As a result, we often deceive ourselves by interpreting this feeling of intimacy as a spiritual relationship. We feel a spiritual kinship. Christians might call this feeling of connectedness the Holy Ghost.
Christians are not alone in regarding feelings as an entity. Philosophers have suggested a communal spirit, even a world spirit. Others have suggested a national spirit, an ethnic spirit, even a separate spirit on each of our planets. These entities are harmless diversions and can be useful in simplifying our attempts to communicate feelings to one another, but they can be demonic insomuch as they do not exist and yet can seriously influence human behavior to the point of diminishing our capacity to cope within a friendly environment, thus making that environment unnecessarily hostile. It would be irresponsible of me not to point out that a false sense of detachment from our feelings can contribute to toleration of an actual hostile environment by suggesting hope when there is little or none, and allowing us to endure until some solution to such a difficult situation offers itself.
Returning to relationships, let’s start with a simple one: male and female, sometimes referred to as finding a soul mate (someone who shares one's spirit). There is a tendency to interpret this relationship as being bound together by an entity, a shared spirit, rather than by shared feelings. This awareness of a separate entity can even go so far as assuming such a connecting spirit even when there is no feeling of intimacy, even when there is shared animosity. Such a deceit can contribute to the production of progeny and to the protection thereof, but it can also contribute to the harm of said progeny, and to one another.
When children are born we now have a family, and with it a family spirit is born. This entity ideally represents the bonds of affection between siblings and parents, and can extend even to distant relatives. These bonds are good, but the entity perceived (family) is not necessarily so. Demands and expectations in the name of this entity are often unrealistic, detrimental to all concerned, and not at all based on affection, though that term may be used to justify the demands and expectations. The situation is especially irritating and difficult to resolve because the entity does not really exist.
When families interrelate in societal activities and in commerce, we have a community, and with the birth of a community a communal spirit is born. Cooperating in peaceful activities is good, and communal bonds contribute to the enjoyment of shared activity, but the entity, called the communal spirit, is not necessarily a good thing. In the name of this communal entity individuals are expendable for the perceived good of the community. Though this may be justified in extreme cases, the entity called the communal spirit can make it an all too convenient solution to even the most trivial of travails.
Cities, states, nations all have their spirit entities. Though they do not in fact exist as actual entities, they are treated as such and often even viewed as such. When something that does not exist is treated as if it does exist, there is the danger of valuing the nonexistent entity more than actual living beings. This cannot be good. It corrupts the mind and it diminishes the ability of real beings to survive if the entities that do not exist cease to exist. Oops! If you reread that last sentence, you will see the difficulty in discussing nonliving entities. It is difficult to accept, even to realize, that they do not exist.
The choice we face is one of trust. Who and/or what do we trust? Who and/or what should we trust? Our continued survival depends on trusting someone and/or something. Our instinct is to be suspicious, but as we are domesticated (civilized) more and more, we tend to trust more and more indiscriminately. Our social instinct combined with our natural deference to superior force (that which can kill us or protect us at its discretion) often blinds us to the fact that nonexistent entities cannot, in and of themselves, either harm or protect us. They can, however, absolve us of restraints imposed upon us by our natural association with others, thus justifying cruelty and unbridled harshness in our behavior towards each other while under the influence of such a nonexistent entity given authority over our behavior by our emotional response to having named the entity (imparting upon it a pretend reality), originally for convenience but ultimately dominating our behavior because, since it does not exist, we cannot touch it (we have no power over it) simply because it does not exist.
Just as we should be more careful trusting people, no matter how domesticated (civilized) we may be, so too should we be more careful in subjugating ourselves to institutions. We should definitely not think of an association, an institution, or an idea as actually existing.
From an evolutionist point of view our instincts are chemical reactions that have so successfully contributed to our survival that they continue to influence, and often determine, our behavior still today. Their success is so obvious that their continued influence is interpreted as purpose-driven insomuch as they manifest themselves as the drive to survive. This, of course, is linguistically misleading. Chemical reactions do not have volition. They do not occur to accomplish a purpose. They simply do what they do because what they do contributes towards their continuing to do so. The ability to store information allows our body to refine these chemical reactions into responses to our environment that further contribute to our survival, but much of this stored memory is reflexive and not accessible to our conscious behavior. Thus we remain unaware of its influence upon us and tend to interpret the source of our feelings as being outside of ourselves, as a kind of spirit that permeates us. This has led to some interesting, yet deceitful, philosophical speculations.
Relationships are a particular manifestation of this spirit that is not us but is part of us. In relationships we are able to see others as we see ourselves, a kind of projection of ourselves into others. We see this at an early age in what is called mirroring through which, rather than projecting ourselves into others, we incorporate others into ourselves and mirror their behavior. Watching children as they perfectly imitate the behavior of their parent is an amusing example of this behavior. As we grow older and more independent, this mirroring factor of intimacy projects rather than absorbs and, instead of us becoming the other person, the other person becomes us. As a result, we often deceive ourselves by interpreting this feeling of intimacy as a spiritual relationship. We feel a spiritual kinship. Christians might call this feeling of connectedness the Holy Ghost.
Christians are not alone in regarding feelings as an entity. Philosophers have suggested a communal spirit, even a world spirit. Others have suggested a national spirit, an ethnic spirit, even a separate spirit on each of our planets. These entities are harmless diversions and can be useful in simplifying our attempts to communicate feelings to one another, but they can be demonic insomuch as they do not exist and yet can seriously influence human behavior to the point of diminishing our capacity to cope within a friendly environment, thus making that environment unnecessarily hostile. It would be irresponsible of me not to point out that a false sense of detachment from our feelings can contribute to toleration of an actual hostile environment by suggesting hope when there is little or none, and allowing us to endure until some solution to such a difficult situation offers itself.
Returning to relationships, let’s start with a simple one: male and female, sometimes referred to as finding a soul mate (someone who shares one's spirit). There is a tendency to interpret this relationship as being bound together by an entity, a shared spirit, rather than by shared feelings. This awareness of a separate entity can even go so far as assuming such a connecting spirit even when there is no feeling of intimacy, even when there is shared animosity. Such a deceit can contribute to the production of progeny and to the protection thereof, but it can also contribute to the harm of said progeny, and to one another.
When children are born we now have a family, and with it a family spirit is born. This entity ideally represents the bonds of affection between siblings and parents, and can extend even to distant relatives. These bonds are good, but the entity perceived (family) is not necessarily so. Demands and expectations in the name of this entity are often unrealistic, detrimental to all concerned, and not at all based on affection, though that term may be used to justify the demands and expectations. The situation is especially irritating and difficult to resolve because the entity does not really exist.
When families interrelate in societal activities and in commerce, we have a community, and with the birth of a community a communal spirit is born. Cooperating in peaceful activities is good, and communal bonds contribute to the enjoyment of shared activity, but the entity, called the communal spirit, is not necessarily a good thing. In the name of this communal entity individuals are expendable for the perceived good of the community. Though this may be justified in extreme cases, the entity called the communal spirit can make it an all too convenient solution to even the most trivial of travails.
Cities, states, nations all have their spirit entities. Though they do not in fact exist as actual entities, they are treated as such and often even viewed as such. When something that does not exist is treated as if it does exist, there is the danger of valuing the nonexistent entity more than actual living beings. This cannot be good. It corrupts the mind and it diminishes the ability of real beings to survive if the entities that do not exist cease to exist. Oops! If you reread that last sentence, you will see the difficulty in discussing nonliving entities. It is difficult to accept, even to realize, that they do not exist.
The choice we face is one of trust. Who and/or what do we trust? Who and/or what should we trust? Our continued survival depends on trusting someone and/or something. Our instinct is to be suspicious, but as we are domesticated (civilized) more and more, we tend to trust more and more indiscriminately. Our social instinct combined with our natural deference to superior force (that which can kill us or protect us at its discretion) often blinds us to the fact that nonexistent entities cannot, in and of themselves, either harm or protect us. They can, however, absolve us of restraints imposed upon us by our natural association with others, thus justifying cruelty and unbridled harshness in our behavior towards each other while under the influence of such a nonexistent entity given authority over our behavior by our emotional response to having named the entity (imparting upon it a pretend reality), originally for convenience but ultimately dominating our behavior because, since it does not exist, we cannot touch it (we have no power over it) simply because it does not exist.
Just as we should be more careful trusting people, no matter how domesticated (civilized) we may be, so too should we be more careful in subjugating ourselves to institutions. We should definitely not think of an association, an institution, or an idea as actually existing.
David
Dear Grandpa,
I enjoyed reading your ideas on religion and thought it was a very interesting view on people’s beliefs in "God." I agreed with certain aspects, for instance the need to believe in a higher power and the good that can come from it. You however seemed to believe that the belief in "God" to gain some reward like Heaven or good fortune is a negative thing. I believe that it is necessary as a tool for survival like you had also said. I believe that the belief in Heaven is more of a means of control, something to keep people from doing things deemed "Evil," or Satanic. For example murder, rape, assault. These are things that need to be stopped and I think that religion is the loophole that they found to subdue a certain amount of these things.
I do believe in "God," per se, however I do not believe in the Bible (disciples, ten commandments, etc.). I like to think that there is someone watching my back and helping me through life in everything that I do. Even if it’s just my subconscious that I'm talking to, it still gives me a good peace of mind believing that there is someone that is always listening when I have something to say. This however is as far as my belief goes.
As far as the disciples and those things go, I think that those things are made up legends that have been passed down over the years to lay the grounds for the belief in "God." My belief in this rests on the fact that no matter what religion you look at, all are pretty close in relation.
Guy
Dear Guy,
Thank you for reading my article. There is evidence that good can come from belief in a higher power. I would suggest the success of Alcoholics Anonymous as an example. I’m sure there are others that can point out other evidence in abundance. There is, however, some question as to whether this good comes directly from the higher power or whether it comes from the belief itself. As an evolutionist I tend to believe we often rationalize away our irrational (instinctive, intuitive) drive to survive, and by so doing become vulnerable to self-destructive behaviors such as drinking, smoking, drugs, overeating, etc. Often by simply replacing our rationalizations (our nihilistic responses of guilt, self-loathing, self-pity, blaming others) of that which overpowers us and our pagan view of ourselves as all-powerful (able to solve our own problems, able to manipulate [which is often the point in denying the existence of] God), with our instincts (our rational instinct in a subordinate position to the rest) can give us the strength and subconsciously perhaps even the strategy for regaining control of our mind and our body.
If Heaven or good fortune is the reason one believes in God, I would suggest a re-evaluation of one's motives. In the language of the religious, I would point out that the promise of Heaven or good fortune, even for good behavior, is making a deal with the devil. That a good God would make such a deal seems inconsistent with the concept of a good God. In the first place, God does not need to make deals; He is God. What He decides is what is. In the second place, if God is so desirous that we be good that He would bargain with us, why would He not just make us to be good? Thirdly, what value can there be in being good for the sake of a reward? If goodness is to be a value, it must surely be the reward itself.
As an evolutionist I can find no evidence, nor can I think of any reason, for there to be a Heaven. However, I can surmise that, should God want our continuing company (as well He might since He does seem to respect us), there might be some form of continuing existence for us. I do not believe this, but I cannot in good faith dismiss it as unthinkable. And since I do believe that God wants what is best for us, Heaven just might be it. Personally, I see nothing in Heaven that makes it appear to be much more than what I already have, and if God should ask me if I would like to go to Heaven, I would have to respond, “I would be more comfortable if You would decide what should happen to me now,” knowing He would choose what is best. That God would reward or punish me for my behavior I find unacceptable. The behavior itself is reward or punishment enough.
Concerning evil, as an evolutionist I suggest it is in the eye of the beholder. What is evil one moment seems too often to become good the next. The victim, or one who perceives himself as the potential victim, sees evil. The perpetrator (the predator), or one who sees himself as the perpetrator, seems to see it differently. To the extent that religion tends to adopt the victims view, I would agree with you that it gives us a perspective, an empathy we might otherwise not have. Religions do not always do that however. Too often they justify the perpetrator, and too often they are the perpetrator (the predator). There is also the problem that victims often contribute to their own misfortune, and religion often encourages them to do just that: remain ignorant, depend on others for their sustenance, don’t fight back, etc.
As for the Bible, I would suggest you do not judge it or any other religious documentation too harshly. Some very intelligent and sincere people have done much thinking and much soul searching in the writing contained therein. If you read this documentation (the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, the Veda, etc) in a thoughtful and open-minded way, there is much to be
learned. There is a problem with literalism, which has badly discredited these writings down through the years. Much of this literature is meant to stimulate an intuitive understanding of that which cannot be understood, or is extremely difficult to understand, rationally. Those who hold their irrational selves in contempt interpret literally what was never meant for that genre, and consequently have caused much confusion. If you can learn to read with your heart as well as your head, these documents can prove a productive force in your life.
You have expressed two insights that bear mentioning and reinforcing. First, you converse with God and feel His presence and do not seem to feel a need to justify His rational reality. I would encourage most enthusiastically that you continue to do so. Second, you are aware of a connection between and among all the writers of all religious documents and do not exclude any. If you should choose to explore any of these writings, I would caution you to not let your good sense desert you as it has deserted so many in the past few years.
Grandpa
I enjoyed reading your ideas on religion and thought it was a very interesting view on people’s beliefs in "God." I agreed with certain aspects, for instance the need to believe in a higher power and the good that can come from it. You however seemed to believe that the belief in "God" to gain some reward like Heaven or good fortune is a negative thing. I believe that it is necessary as a tool for survival like you had also said. I believe that the belief in Heaven is more of a means of control, something to keep people from doing things deemed "Evil," or Satanic. For example murder, rape, assault. These are things that need to be stopped and I think that religion is the loophole that they found to subdue a certain amount of these things.
I do believe in "God," per se, however I do not believe in the Bible (disciples, ten commandments, etc.). I like to think that there is someone watching my back and helping me through life in everything that I do. Even if it’s just my subconscious that I'm talking to, it still gives me a good peace of mind believing that there is someone that is always listening when I have something to say. This however is as far as my belief goes.
As far as the disciples and those things go, I think that those things are made up legends that have been passed down over the years to lay the grounds for the belief in "God." My belief in this rests on the fact that no matter what religion you look at, all are pretty close in relation.
Guy
Dear Guy,
Thank you for reading my article. There is evidence that good can come from belief in a higher power. I would suggest the success of Alcoholics Anonymous as an example. I’m sure there are others that can point out other evidence in abundance. There is, however, some question as to whether this good comes directly from the higher power or whether it comes from the belief itself. As an evolutionist I tend to believe we often rationalize away our irrational (instinctive, intuitive) drive to survive, and by so doing become vulnerable to self-destructive behaviors such as drinking, smoking, drugs, overeating, etc. Often by simply replacing our rationalizations (our nihilistic responses of guilt, self-loathing, self-pity, blaming others) of that which overpowers us and our pagan view of ourselves as all-powerful (able to solve our own problems, able to manipulate [which is often the point in denying the existence of] God), with our instincts (our rational instinct in a subordinate position to the rest) can give us the strength and subconsciously perhaps even the strategy for regaining control of our mind and our body.
If Heaven or good fortune is the reason one believes in God, I would suggest a re-evaluation of one's motives. In the language of the religious, I would point out that the promise of Heaven or good fortune, even for good behavior, is making a deal with the devil. That a good God would make such a deal seems inconsistent with the concept of a good God. In the first place, God does not need to make deals; He is God. What He decides is what is. In the second place, if God is so desirous that we be good that He would bargain with us, why would He not just make us to be good? Thirdly, what value can there be in being good for the sake of a reward? If goodness is to be a value, it must surely be the reward itself.
As an evolutionist I can find no evidence, nor can I think of any reason, for there to be a Heaven. However, I can surmise that, should God want our continuing company (as well He might since He does seem to respect us), there might be some form of continuing existence for us. I do not believe this, but I cannot in good faith dismiss it as unthinkable. And since I do believe that God wants what is best for us, Heaven just might be it. Personally, I see nothing in Heaven that makes it appear to be much more than what I already have, and if God should ask me if I would like to go to Heaven, I would have to respond, “I would be more comfortable if You would decide what should happen to me now,” knowing He would choose what is best. That God would reward or punish me for my behavior I find unacceptable. The behavior itself is reward or punishment enough.
Concerning evil, as an evolutionist I suggest it is in the eye of the beholder. What is evil one moment seems too often to become good the next. The victim, or one who perceives himself as the potential victim, sees evil. The perpetrator (the predator), or one who sees himself as the perpetrator, seems to see it differently. To the extent that religion tends to adopt the victims view, I would agree with you that it gives us a perspective, an empathy we might otherwise not have. Religions do not always do that however. Too often they justify the perpetrator, and too often they are the perpetrator (the predator). There is also the problem that victims often contribute to their own misfortune, and religion often encourages them to do just that: remain ignorant, depend on others for their sustenance, don’t fight back, etc.
As for the Bible, I would suggest you do not judge it or any other religious documentation too harshly. Some very intelligent and sincere people have done much thinking and much soul searching in the writing contained therein. If you read this documentation (the Bible, the Torah, the Koran, the Veda, etc) in a thoughtful and open-minded way, there is much to be
learned. There is a problem with literalism, which has badly discredited these writings down through the years. Much of this literature is meant to stimulate an intuitive understanding of that which cannot be understood, or is extremely difficult to understand, rationally. Those who hold their irrational selves in contempt interpret literally what was never meant for that genre, and consequently have caused much confusion. If you can learn to read with your heart as well as your head, these documents can prove a productive force in your life.
You have expressed two insights that bear mentioning and reinforcing. First, you converse with God and feel His presence and do not seem to feel a need to justify His rational reality. I would encourage most enthusiastically that you continue to do so. Second, you are aware of a connection between and among all the writers of all religious documents and do not exclude any. If you should choose to explore any of these writings, I would caution you to not let your good sense desert you as it has deserted so many in the past few years.
Grandpa
Innocence
The correspondence you have just read was between my grandson and me. It is important (to me at least) because it suggested a solution to a problem I have struggled with for many years.
The story of Saul and David seems to suggest that God is fickle and a tyrant. Saul was abandoned by God for not committing genocide as God had commanded him to do. David was chosen because he was obedient and presumably would have committed the genocide. On the surface, the story seems similar to the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his beloved son because he presumably loved God more than he loved his son, and God was so jealous that it was necessary to prove Abraham’s exclusive allegiance to Him by killing that which he held most dear. Neither story reflects well on God if these stories are literally interpreted.
Those who take the scriptures literally (superficially) are forced either to admit that they are willing to kill the innocent if they are so inclined by religious enthusiasm, or to deny that they would do such a thing only because God would not demand such obedience any longer, but had good reason to do so in Abraham’s day, or to excuse the intent of God since His command to kill the innocent was not carried out.
The following quote from Guy's letter suggested a solution to my dilemma: “I like to think that there is someone watching my back and helping me through life in everything that I do. Even if it’s just my subconscious that I'm talking to, it still gives me a good peace of mind believing that there is someone that is always listening when I have something to say. This however is as far as my belief goes.”
Such a statement suggests an evolution (with just a touch of the existential) solution to my dilemma. Too many of those seeking God appear to be chasing after Him, He being eternally elusive. This suggests a predator/prey relationship and, as such, would appeal to our hunter instincts at a very deep level (God is to be hunted down and devoured). There is even a “gotcha” moment of ecstasy that overwhelms us as we bite into God in that final moment. God has become a part of us. Such a situation seems inconsistent with our idea of God, however. He is the Master in our theology, not the slave, certainly not the prey of our avarice.
An opposing view would be God chasing after us. We become the prey. This also is in the background of our theology. God seeks us out. In this pursuit and capture there is also a slightly different “gotcha” moment as God takes His first bite into our flesh. It is a moment of awe, of being overwhelmed, and it too is a kind of ecstasy. We have become a part of God.
These two views together or apart would probably appeal to a more barbaric populace, but we are civilized. We are spoiled, not so independent, relying on others to make our lives more comfortable, even sustainable. We need a more comforting relationship.
That is the solution my grandson, Guy, was instrumental in forcing into my perspective. Rather than Master, rather than Servant (even Slave), God is a Partner, a Friend, perhaps a Mentor, but not pushy or demanding, simply a Compatriot, Companion, Advisor, available to even the most despicable among us; simply someone watching our back, sharing our experiences, always available but not always demanding our attention.
From a logical point of view, this type of relationship is simply unacceptable. God is so superior to us that even the word superior doesn’t really bridge the chasm between us and Him. It is logically necessary to accept the fact that He is our Master, and it is our lot to do His bidding without question, knowing that He is always right and, even if He were not (a ridiculous suggestion, but necessary to the following point), He created us and consequently has an absolute right, by any moral code involving propriety and/or property, to our unquestioning obedience even unto death.
Only a mythological portrayal can satisfactorily explain a relationship that transcends the constraints of rational thought and makes a friendly relationship with God available to us. In an attempt to create this mythological moment, I will use the predator/prey analogy, and suggest that God not only pursues but is pursued by us at the same moment. The relationship is analogous to a wrestling match between a father and son. It is exhilarating. Both are the predator and both are the prey. The father, of course, can always win, but probably does not. The son must always lose, but does not. The purpose of the sport is not the winning or losing; it is the interaction, the active as opposed to the passive relationship of affection. Standing outside the mythology, one might say the father is training the son for adversity, as indeed he is, but the moment is not an adversarial one. It is a sharing moment. It would not exist if the child were not permitted to challenge his father’s authority. It is the challenging that gives him an opportunity to learn.
A problem inevitably develops when the son flexes his muscles, and the challenge becomes serious when the son tries to defeat his father, even injure him. This is a part of growing up. It is the sudden welling up of the predator instinct in us all. The wrestling match then does not end well. The father, if defeated or seeing a future of defeat, ends the wrestling relationship forever, or the son walks away feeling defeated and with resentment against (even hatred for) his father for humiliating him (perhaps even with some small injury for his presumption of superiority). The humiliation, of course, is only fostered by the son’s unrealistic expectations, and he maintains a distant, even resentful, relationship with his father.
At the risk of seeming sexist, I will suggest another mythological scenario for women since most women, I assume (and some men), might not relate to wrestling with their father, just as some women (and most men) might not relate to wrestling with their mother. Instead of wrestling with their father, women might prefer to dance. As long as the dance is a shared predator/prey relationship (the feeling of control through dominance, and the feeling of control in submission) it is enjoyable, but there is eventually and inevitably the necessity of proving oneself worthy, the pulling away to perform rather than share the dance. We distance ourselves from God. He becomes the observer and we become performers.
Returning to Saul and David, mythologically Saul excuses his promise to exterminate the populace aligned against him by proclaiming that God told him to do so, and then excuses the failures that followed by portraying himself as morally superior to God by choosing not to perform such a horrendous act and being punished for his presumption. I am not claiming he did this deliberately. I would suggest that, mythologically, he firmly believed God ordered him to kill every man, woman, and child of that adversarial tribe, and that in not doing it he had offended God. In other words, he pursued God and actually, in his mind, caught Him and extracted what he needed to encourage his troops on to victory.
There is also the sense that Saul felt pursued by God. God was watching his back in a different sense from that which my grandson suggested. God was evaluating him, haunting him, forcing him on, judging him, rewarding and punishing him, watching his every move with predatory eyes.
David differed in the sense that he actually seemed to consider God as a valued friend, possibly mentor, and he enjoyed an affectionate relationship and was truly repentant when he offended God, just as he would be with any other close companion. He did not expect God to give him anything; he did not feel an obligation to repay God for favors rendered. He simply enjoyed His companionship, and God enjoyed his; an innocent relationship.
The story of Saul and David seems to suggest that God is fickle and a tyrant. Saul was abandoned by God for not committing genocide as God had commanded him to do. David was chosen because he was obedient and presumably would have committed the genocide. On the surface, the story seems similar to the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his beloved son because he presumably loved God more than he loved his son, and God was so jealous that it was necessary to prove Abraham’s exclusive allegiance to Him by killing that which he held most dear. Neither story reflects well on God if these stories are literally interpreted.
Those who take the scriptures literally (superficially) are forced either to admit that they are willing to kill the innocent if they are so inclined by religious enthusiasm, or to deny that they would do such a thing only because God would not demand such obedience any longer, but had good reason to do so in Abraham’s day, or to excuse the intent of God since His command to kill the innocent was not carried out.
The following quote from Guy's letter suggested a solution to my dilemma: “I like to think that there is someone watching my back and helping me through life in everything that I do. Even if it’s just my subconscious that I'm talking to, it still gives me a good peace of mind believing that there is someone that is always listening when I have something to say. This however is as far as my belief goes.”
Such a statement suggests an evolution (with just a touch of the existential) solution to my dilemma. Too many of those seeking God appear to be chasing after Him, He being eternally elusive. This suggests a predator/prey relationship and, as such, would appeal to our hunter instincts at a very deep level (God is to be hunted down and devoured). There is even a “gotcha” moment of ecstasy that overwhelms us as we bite into God in that final moment. God has become a part of us. Such a situation seems inconsistent with our idea of God, however. He is the Master in our theology, not the slave, certainly not the prey of our avarice.
An opposing view would be God chasing after us. We become the prey. This also is in the background of our theology. God seeks us out. In this pursuit and capture there is also a slightly different “gotcha” moment as God takes His first bite into our flesh. It is a moment of awe, of being overwhelmed, and it too is a kind of ecstasy. We have become a part of God.
These two views together or apart would probably appeal to a more barbaric populace, but we are civilized. We are spoiled, not so independent, relying on others to make our lives more comfortable, even sustainable. We need a more comforting relationship.
That is the solution my grandson, Guy, was instrumental in forcing into my perspective. Rather than Master, rather than Servant (even Slave), God is a Partner, a Friend, perhaps a Mentor, but not pushy or demanding, simply a Compatriot, Companion, Advisor, available to even the most despicable among us; simply someone watching our back, sharing our experiences, always available but not always demanding our attention.
From a logical point of view, this type of relationship is simply unacceptable. God is so superior to us that even the word superior doesn’t really bridge the chasm between us and Him. It is logically necessary to accept the fact that He is our Master, and it is our lot to do His bidding without question, knowing that He is always right and, even if He were not (a ridiculous suggestion, but necessary to the following point), He created us and consequently has an absolute right, by any moral code involving propriety and/or property, to our unquestioning obedience even unto death.
Only a mythological portrayal can satisfactorily explain a relationship that transcends the constraints of rational thought and makes a friendly relationship with God available to us. In an attempt to create this mythological moment, I will use the predator/prey analogy, and suggest that God not only pursues but is pursued by us at the same moment. The relationship is analogous to a wrestling match between a father and son. It is exhilarating. Both are the predator and both are the prey. The father, of course, can always win, but probably does not. The son must always lose, but does not. The purpose of the sport is not the winning or losing; it is the interaction, the active as opposed to the passive relationship of affection. Standing outside the mythology, one might say the father is training the son for adversity, as indeed he is, but the moment is not an adversarial one. It is a sharing moment. It would not exist if the child were not permitted to challenge his father’s authority. It is the challenging that gives him an opportunity to learn.
A problem inevitably develops when the son flexes his muscles, and the challenge becomes serious when the son tries to defeat his father, even injure him. This is a part of growing up. It is the sudden welling up of the predator instinct in us all. The wrestling match then does not end well. The father, if defeated or seeing a future of defeat, ends the wrestling relationship forever, or the son walks away feeling defeated and with resentment against (even hatred for) his father for humiliating him (perhaps even with some small injury for his presumption of superiority). The humiliation, of course, is only fostered by the son’s unrealistic expectations, and he maintains a distant, even resentful, relationship with his father.
At the risk of seeming sexist, I will suggest another mythological scenario for women since most women, I assume (and some men), might not relate to wrestling with their father, just as some women (and most men) might not relate to wrestling with their mother. Instead of wrestling with their father, women might prefer to dance. As long as the dance is a shared predator/prey relationship (the feeling of control through dominance, and the feeling of control in submission) it is enjoyable, but there is eventually and inevitably the necessity of proving oneself worthy, the pulling away to perform rather than share the dance. We distance ourselves from God. He becomes the observer and we become performers.
Returning to Saul and David, mythologically Saul excuses his promise to exterminate the populace aligned against him by proclaiming that God told him to do so, and then excuses the failures that followed by portraying himself as morally superior to God by choosing not to perform such a horrendous act and being punished for his presumption. I am not claiming he did this deliberately. I would suggest that, mythologically, he firmly believed God ordered him to kill every man, woman, and child of that adversarial tribe, and that in not doing it he had offended God. In other words, he pursued God and actually, in his mind, caught Him and extracted what he needed to encourage his troops on to victory.
There is also the sense that Saul felt pursued by God. God was watching his back in a different sense from that which my grandson suggested. God was evaluating him, haunting him, forcing him on, judging him, rewarding and punishing him, watching his every move with predatory eyes.
David differed in the sense that he actually seemed to consider God as a valued friend, possibly mentor, and he enjoyed an affectionate relationship and was truly repentant when he offended God, just as he would be with any other close companion. He did not expect God to give him anything; he did not feel an obligation to repay God for favors rendered. He simply enjoyed His companionship, and God enjoyed his; an innocent relationship.
God Has a Plan
Suggesting that life has inherent meaning is an absurdity. There is no meaning to life apart from the meaning we impose upon it. If we become the automatons our religions and our communities encourage us to become, who we really are (our self) will die.
This is one of the reasons I am an evolutionist. For me the meaning of life is in the struggle. Whereas so many people seem to see God as what they can control through careful manipulation (flattery, pleading, prostration), I see Him/Her/It (whether or not there is a God) as what can never be controlled and as an adversary giving meaning to my life (my struggle to survive which is manifested in my determination to dominate) through an eternal wrestling match, if you will. It is somewhat similar to the child wrestling with his father that I mentioned a few moments ago. He cannot win, but there is meaning in his determined struggle to overcome this overwhelming force which means him no harm but rather an opportunity to vent this drive to assert himself.
There is an affectionate interrelationship formed by close physical contact and by the exertion inherent in instinctual actuation. The world becomes a playpen. The fantasy of finally overcoming this indomitable force gives meaning to life. The fantasy will, of course, never be realized, but who really cares. The meaning is in the struggle. This is instinct at its very best. It drives us forward.
We are, unfortunately, educating our children away from primal instincts and toward a life of rules: scientific, cultural, religious, doctrinaire, etc.; the things that do actually give meaning to our lives (music, dance, poetry, prayer, meditation, painting, etc., our primal instincts) are rapidly becoming obsolete. Sadness, hopelessness, even rage, may be attributed to the feeling of loss we feel of these, our primary motivators, the things that make life most enjoyable.
I’m not a Darwinist. Today’s interpretation of that term seems to suggest using evolution to perfect humanity. Hitler pretty much proved that this is a dangerous direction, the immediate question being, “Who determines perfection?” The most appropriate answer appears to be, “As much as possible, let’s leave the direction of evolution in the hands of God (or of chance if you are not a theist)."
I am more interested in how evolution explains us. It seems logical to me that there must be a drive to survive, a sort of impetus to the action/reaction responses of instinctive behavior. I am concerned that the instincts that make us who we are, and which are expressed through artistic endeavor, are more and more being subjected to contempt through our obsession with the rational part of our nature. I also believe that religion is our attempt to express the irrational (intuitive, instinctual, artistic) urges struggling within us in an attempt to alert us to possible threats, keeping us alert, on our toes, and enriching our lives, making us passionate and fully aware of just how stimulating life can be.
Many of my views about life are existential, though my suggestion that we are determined by inherited instincts probably deviates from the basic assumption of existentialism (that existence precedes essence). I like to think, however, that I am merely challenging transcendental thought, not rejecting it, and that the essence of life at its very beginning precedes the existence of life. I also believe that the decisions we make, though I think we (the self) are figments of our own imagination (a byproduct of the balancing of our instinctual responses), play a large part in determining our essence.
There are two kinds of struggle, I believe: hostile and benevolent. We struggle to survive and we struggle to hone our survival skills. The actual struggle against that which would kill us focuses our instincts and stimulates in us a kind of rage that blinds us to everything other than our immediate goal -- to win. Benevolent struggle is an opportunity to share our survival skills with another and to learn more effective and efficient ways to respond to adversity; children playing is an example of this. Then there is the master/student relationship. This is the struggle to which I was referring a few paragraphs back. In this situation the student not only learns to hone his instinctual behavior, he learns to curb his rage because he cannot win; he can only exert himself to his utmost in an impossible situation (a child wrestling with his father is a really good example of this).
You are right if you say this is the very behavior that has gotten us into so much trouble. That is one reason why we must not lose sight of who and what we are in our attempts to rationalize the world. Unaware of our drive to survive which morphs into our determination to dominate, we rationalize our behavior as justified, even when what is simply our repressed emotional self asserting itself harms others and often even ourselves. Aware of our irrational emotional (instinctive) self, we can express it more positively through dance, painting, poetry, religion, and/or some other art form. It becomes productive rather than destructive and it adds fullness to our lives and enriches our rational nature.
This is one of the reasons I am an evolutionist. For me the meaning of life is in the struggle. Whereas so many people seem to see God as what they can control through careful manipulation (flattery, pleading, prostration), I see Him/Her/It (whether or not there is a God) as what can never be controlled and as an adversary giving meaning to my life (my struggle to survive which is manifested in my determination to dominate) through an eternal wrestling match, if you will. It is somewhat similar to the child wrestling with his father that I mentioned a few moments ago. He cannot win, but there is meaning in his determined struggle to overcome this overwhelming force which means him no harm but rather an opportunity to vent this drive to assert himself.
There is an affectionate interrelationship formed by close physical contact and by the exertion inherent in instinctual actuation. The world becomes a playpen. The fantasy of finally overcoming this indomitable force gives meaning to life. The fantasy will, of course, never be realized, but who really cares. The meaning is in the struggle. This is instinct at its very best. It drives us forward.
We are, unfortunately, educating our children away from primal instincts and toward a life of rules: scientific, cultural, religious, doctrinaire, etc.; the things that do actually give meaning to our lives (music, dance, poetry, prayer, meditation, painting, etc., our primal instincts) are rapidly becoming obsolete. Sadness, hopelessness, even rage, may be attributed to the feeling of loss we feel of these, our primary motivators, the things that make life most enjoyable.
I’m not a Darwinist. Today’s interpretation of that term seems to suggest using evolution to perfect humanity. Hitler pretty much proved that this is a dangerous direction, the immediate question being, “Who determines perfection?” The most appropriate answer appears to be, “As much as possible, let’s leave the direction of evolution in the hands of God (or of chance if you are not a theist)."
I am more interested in how evolution explains us. It seems logical to me that there must be a drive to survive, a sort of impetus to the action/reaction responses of instinctive behavior. I am concerned that the instincts that make us who we are, and which are expressed through artistic endeavor, are more and more being subjected to contempt through our obsession with the rational part of our nature. I also believe that religion is our attempt to express the irrational (intuitive, instinctual, artistic) urges struggling within us in an attempt to alert us to possible threats, keeping us alert, on our toes, and enriching our lives, making us passionate and fully aware of just how stimulating life can be.
Many of my views about life are existential, though my suggestion that we are determined by inherited instincts probably deviates from the basic assumption of existentialism (that existence precedes essence). I like to think, however, that I am merely challenging transcendental thought, not rejecting it, and that the essence of life at its very beginning precedes the existence of life. I also believe that the decisions we make, though I think we (the self) are figments of our own imagination (a byproduct of the balancing of our instinctual responses), play a large part in determining our essence.
There are two kinds of struggle, I believe: hostile and benevolent. We struggle to survive and we struggle to hone our survival skills. The actual struggle against that which would kill us focuses our instincts and stimulates in us a kind of rage that blinds us to everything other than our immediate goal -- to win. Benevolent struggle is an opportunity to share our survival skills with another and to learn more effective and efficient ways to respond to adversity; children playing is an example of this. Then there is the master/student relationship. This is the struggle to which I was referring a few paragraphs back. In this situation the student not only learns to hone his instinctual behavior, he learns to curb his rage because he cannot win; he can only exert himself to his utmost in an impossible situation (a child wrestling with his father is a really good example of this).
You are right if you say this is the very behavior that has gotten us into so much trouble. That is one reason why we must not lose sight of who and what we are in our attempts to rationalize the world. Unaware of our drive to survive which morphs into our determination to dominate, we rationalize our behavior as justified, even when what is simply our repressed emotional self asserting itself harms others and often even ourselves. Aware of our irrational emotional (instinctive) self, we can express it more positively through dance, painting, poetry, religion, and/or some other art form. It becomes productive rather than destructive and it adds fullness to our lives and enriches our rational nature.
Jesus
Spirit and soul are often confused one for the other. They are, in fact, quite different. Spirit is understood as animation, motivation, thrust. Soul is intuited as alone, unique.
Soul has no rational basis unless Plato’s pseudo-metaphysical argument is taken seriously. In that case our soul is immortal, having existed from before our birth and continuing to exist after our death. The fact that it is ours temporarily is inconsequential, and our affect on it is minimal if at all. As a person of faith, I do not accept that. I believe a soul is given us at birth by God, that it is our essence, so to speak, that it has no form or substance, that it is pure potential (much as energy is potential in a boulder on the edge of a cliff) and that we begin to shape our soul as soon as we begin making decisions. I believe that at any moment in our existence our soul has been shaped by the sum of all our decisions up to that point, that this is what God values in us, and that this is what we are held accountable for if we are held accountable at all.
Spirit is what drives us. This does have some rational basis if viewed from an evolutionist perspective. I do not refer to the chemical processes that activate our bodies, but to the energy that impels us toward some distant goal as yet unseen, the energy generated by our determination to stay alive, morphed in times of our assured existence into a determination to dominate. Our spirit is our emotional response, our awareness of immediacy, our instinctual response to whatever challenges us, physically and mentally. Our spirit is our awareness of being alive.
We show spirit in our enthusiasm, in our energetic activity. The more determined we are, the more spirited are we perceived as being. This is not a rational response to the world around us, though thought may be generated by it. This is an emotional activity, an instinctual response, an intuitive proclivity. In our deepest despair, our spirit raises us up. Our greatest challenges encourage our greatest spiritual response. When life is easy and all our needs are satisfied, our spirit is not. It becomes dull and we become insensitive. Those around us suffer and we do not care unless and until their suffering challenges us. Then our determination to dominate may be stimulated, not to dominate the dominated who are already suffering, but to dominate the suffering itself. Perspective can thus determine our decision to act. We become whole by sharing that which has depressed us. Everyone benefits.
When we are spiritual, we seem to separate from our physical self. It is as if our determination to stay alive suddenly becomes pure energy without purpose, consuming us. This experience can be exhilarating and calming, or it can be the blood lust of battle leading to indiscriminate slaughter of everyone and/or every living thing in sight.
If spirit is what drives us, what real purpose could it possibly serve outside our bodies? As I said before, this experience can be pleasurable and relaxing in and of itself or following some emotional outburst, but it seems to serve no purpose other than allowing our body and mind temporary respite. There may be a feeling of transcendence, but this is an illusion, a mythological interpretation of a sense of well-being. There is no place to which we might transcend. However transcendence, when viewed mythologically, can communicate deep truths to those who listen with open hearts. The idea of transcendence can lead to a deeper understanding of ourselves, but it can also mislead. The problem is with those who can’t see beyond the surface and thus interpret spirit literally as something apart from us, pushing us forward. The ancient Greeks did that with their mythology, losing the inspiration it contained in favor of factual interpretation with little or no value except to subject themselves to the whims of priests and fortune tellers.
What about spirits (ghosts)? If spirit is what drives us, why do we call ghosts "spirits"? I do not believe in ghosts nor in incorporeal spirits of any kind, be they demon, angelic, or human. A belief in ghosts, demons, and/or angels is one of the byproducts of confusing spirit with soul. The soul, it is believed, is immortal, but it has no substance though it takes shape as our decisions mold it. Spirit is the energy that drives us forward day by day. It has no shape, but seems on the instinctive (intuitive) level to be the very embodiment of life itself. It can be perceived as having substance, as being substantial. If we forget that the soul has been molded by decisions, and instead mold it in the shape of the deceased or in the shape of our worst nightmares (our deepest fears) or our highest hopes (protector, companion), then transpose the presumed life force (spirit) into its substance, we have a phantasm.
The heathen in us accepts the spiritual as an explanation for what we do not understand -- whether it be the wind, the air we breathe, fire, the shapes we see in clouds and in shadows and in the bark of trees, the apparent attempt of breath to escape our bodies and its seeming attachment to us as we draw it back in, faces in the fire, the sound of fire as it consumes what fuels it and its apparent attempt to consume us. The heathen in us, even when we know better -- when we understand what makes the air move, the purpose of respiration, and the chemistry of fire -- still believes deep within us in the spiritual implications.
The pagan in us grasps the spiritual for its potential profit and/or power. It sees prophecy as giving us power over the future or, failing that, power over those around us. It sees interpretation of the way the wind blows, the bird flies, the trees sway, and thousands of other chance occurrences as having significance and as a means to gain advantage or to influence the behavior of others. It empowers some objects as ornaments of protection and/or of power, and others as potentially dangerous and to be avoided and feared. It empowers places in much the same way, to be revered and sought out or to be avoided. We cross our fingers for luck or for protection. We wear special articles of clothing or make special gestures for luck and for protection. Even when we know all of this is meaningless, deep within us something still responds to the spiritual implications of chance and feels a need to protect itself from them or to use them to our advantage. We continue to participate in the lottery or other games of chance knowing full well that we will not win, yet feeling that we might.
The atheist in us turns to money, weapons, property, family, and friends for protection from chance. We say we are not taking chances, that we make decisions based on observation and experience, but we treat these things as more than what they are, just as the heathen treats the unknown and the pagan treats chance. We give them a spiritual significance far beyond their actual power to protect. We become dependent on them to an unrealistic extent. Money-the-tool becomes money-the-more-we-have-the-more-we-need. (We give our weapons and our property names and treat them with love and affection. Weapons and property [tools] become weapons and property [an extension of ourselves].) Family and friends too often either hold us back and/or push us beyond our capacity depriving us of our spirit, our will to survive, by becoming our spirit, our will to survive.
Though all of these survival attributes (instincts, intuitions) have contributed and continue to contribute to our survival, their interrelationship can confuse our rational thinking and cloud our judgment if we make no effort to understand and appreciate their contribution to what we are, to what we can become, and to our rational thinking. They add color and they add purpose, but they can distort. We must learn to enjoy that distortion, basking in it but not letting it overwhelm our good sense or prevent us from learning more about the world around us. Denying what we know to be true in favor of what we want to be true should not be the spirit that drives us, but we do not want to lose the spirit that drives us by taking away the instincts, the survival skills developed over millions of years, that fuel that spirit. We need to allow, even encourage, our rational and irrational skills to work together enabling us to function as fully developed human beings.
Soul has no rational basis unless Plato’s pseudo-metaphysical argument is taken seriously. In that case our soul is immortal, having existed from before our birth and continuing to exist after our death. The fact that it is ours temporarily is inconsequential, and our affect on it is minimal if at all. As a person of faith, I do not accept that. I believe a soul is given us at birth by God, that it is our essence, so to speak, that it has no form or substance, that it is pure potential (much as energy is potential in a boulder on the edge of a cliff) and that we begin to shape our soul as soon as we begin making decisions. I believe that at any moment in our existence our soul has been shaped by the sum of all our decisions up to that point, that this is what God values in us, and that this is what we are held accountable for if we are held accountable at all.
Spirit is what drives us. This does have some rational basis if viewed from an evolutionist perspective. I do not refer to the chemical processes that activate our bodies, but to the energy that impels us toward some distant goal as yet unseen, the energy generated by our determination to stay alive, morphed in times of our assured existence into a determination to dominate. Our spirit is our emotional response, our awareness of immediacy, our instinctual response to whatever challenges us, physically and mentally. Our spirit is our awareness of being alive.
We show spirit in our enthusiasm, in our energetic activity. The more determined we are, the more spirited are we perceived as being. This is not a rational response to the world around us, though thought may be generated by it. This is an emotional activity, an instinctual response, an intuitive proclivity. In our deepest despair, our spirit raises us up. Our greatest challenges encourage our greatest spiritual response. When life is easy and all our needs are satisfied, our spirit is not. It becomes dull and we become insensitive. Those around us suffer and we do not care unless and until their suffering challenges us. Then our determination to dominate may be stimulated, not to dominate the dominated who are already suffering, but to dominate the suffering itself. Perspective can thus determine our decision to act. We become whole by sharing that which has depressed us. Everyone benefits.
When we are spiritual, we seem to separate from our physical self. It is as if our determination to stay alive suddenly becomes pure energy without purpose, consuming us. This experience can be exhilarating and calming, or it can be the blood lust of battle leading to indiscriminate slaughter of everyone and/or every living thing in sight.
If spirit is what drives us, what real purpose could it possibly serve outside our bodies? As I said before, this experience can be pleasurable and relaxing in and of itself or following some emotional outburst, but it seems to serve no purpose other than allowing our body and mind temporary respite. There may be a feeling of transcendence, but this is an illusion, a mythological interpretation of a sense of well-being. There is no place to which we might transcend. However transcendence, when viewed mythologically, can communicate deep truths to those who listen with open hearts. The idea of transcendence can lead to a deeper understanding of ourselves, but it can also mislead. The problem is with those who can’t see beyond the surface and thus interpret spirit literally as something apart from us, pushing us forward. The ancient Greeks did that with their mythology, losing the inspiration it contained in favor of factual interpretation with little or no value except to subject themselves to the whims of priests and fortune tellers.
What about spirits (ghosts)? If spirit is what drives us, why do we call ghosts "spirits"? I do not believe in ghosts nor in incorporeal spirits of any kind, be they demon, angelic, or human. A belief in ghosts, demons, and/or angels is one of the byproducts of confusing spirit with soul. The soul, it is believed, is immortal, but it has no substance though it takes shape as our decisions mold it. Spirit is the energy that drives us forward day by day. It has no shape, but seems on the instinctive (intuitive) level to be the very embodiment of life itself. It can be perceived as having substance, as being substantial. If we forget that the soul has been molded by decisions, and instead mold it in the shape of the deceased or in the shape of our worst nightmares (our deepest fears) or our highest hopes (protector, companion), then transpose the presumed life force (spirit) into its substance, we have a phantasm.
The heathen in us accepts the spiritual as an explanation for what we do not understand -- whether it be the wind, the air we breathe, fire, the shapes we see in clouds and in shadows and in the bark of trees, the apparent attempt of breath to escape our bodies and its seeming attachment to us as we draw it back in, faces in the fire, the sound of fire as it consumes what fuels it and its apparent attempt to consume us. The heathen in us, even when we know better -- when we understand what makes the air move, the purpose of respiration, and the chemistry of fire -- still believes deep within us in the spiritual implications.
The pagan in us grasps the spiritual for its potential profit and/or power. It sees prophecy as giving us power over the future or, failing that, power over those around us. It sees interpretation of the way the wind blows, the bird flies, the trees sway, and thousands of other chance occurrences as having significance and as a means to gain advantage or to influence the behavior of others. It empowers some objects as ornaments of protection and/or of power, and others as potentially dangerous and to be avoided and feared. It empowers places in much the same way, to be revered and sought out or to be avoided. We cross our fingers for luck or for protection. We wear special articles of clothing or make special gestures for luck and for protection. Even when we know all of this is meaningless, deep within us something still responds to the spiritual implications of chance and feels a need to protect itself from them or to use them to our advantage. We continue to participate in the lottery or other games of chance knowing full well that we will not win, yet feeling that we might.
The atheist in us turns to money, weapons, property, family, and friends for protection from chance. We say we are not taking chances, that we make decisions based on observation and experience, but we treat these things as more than what they are, just as the heathen treats the unknown and the pagan treats chance. We give them a spiritual significance far beyond their actual power to protect. We become dependent on them to an unrealistic extent. Money-the-tool becomes money-the-more-we-have-the-more-we-need. (We give our weapons and our property names and treat them with love and affection. Weapons and property [tools] become weapons and property [an extension of ourselves].) Family and friends too often either hold us back and/or push us beyond our capacity depriving us of our spirit, our will to survive, by becoming our spirit, our will to survive.
Though all of these survival attributes (instincts, intuitions) have contributed and continue to contribute to our survival, their interrelationship can confuse our rational thinking and cloud our judgment if we make no effort to understand and appreciate their contribution to what we are, to what we can become, and to our rational thinking. They add color and they add purpose, but they can distort. We must learn to enjoy that distortion, basking in it but not letting it overwhelm our good sense or prevent us from learning more about the world around us. Denying what we know to be true in favor of what we want to be true should not be the spirit that drives us, but we do not want to lose the spirit that drives us by taking away the instincts, the survival skills developed over millions of years, that fuel that spirit. We need to allow, even encourage, our rational and irrational skills to work together enabling us to function as fully developed human beings.
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