Expulsion

The strongest argument against the existence of God is the wanting so much that God exist. It contaminates the good sense God gave me. I am unable to objectively evaluate and realistically extrapolate my observations, and I am continually tempted to stop searching for answers, because my emotional response to questions about how things work is that I am challenging God; I am questioning His judgment by subjecting His creation to my criticism.
There is also the naming problem. It was once believed that knowing the real name of something gave one power over what was named, even God. He could be conjured by calling His name. This is more obviously true of what one understands; the better one understands God’s creation, the better understanding one has of how something works, the more able one is to control it. In a sense, God is being challenged. It is, therefore, more pious to accept without question what is. The believer must limit his view of God’s creation to an appreciation of that creation rather than attempt to understand how it works. To see God’s creation through God’s eyes, one must become an atheist.
This has become a significant problem for the religious community; one must remain ignorant to maintain one's belief system, or one must reevaluate constantly one’s beliefs in relation to each new understanding of God’s work. But belief is often fundamental to one's relationship with God. There are promises that have been made — paradise, eternal life, ultimate punishment of one's enemies — which justify one's commitments to family, community, and God. Why would anyone serve a God without rewards? And these rewards are an integral part of one's beliefs, as well as the responsibilities to which one is committed to earn these rewards. The argument might be made that God looks at who you are rather than at what you are or what you do, but this is misleading because in order to be a believer “you must believe…,” or “you must do…,” and to receive the rewards you must be a believer.
To resolve these outmoded and often ridiculous and self-destructive beliefs and behaviors, religious institutions must reevaluate the basics of their approach to the Almighty. There are, however, no premises, no axioms, and no postulates for an objective evaluation of one's religious inclinations. I am an evolutionist and an atheist, and I have a relationship with God based not on belief, but solely on faith. I can find no justification for the existence of God in His creation. In fact, the contrary appears to be true. God’s creation, from my perspective, works better without His interference and without his presence. (I do not mean to suggest that I work better without His presence, but that is a completely different matter.) I would, however, as an atheist and an evolutionist, suggest a rational critique and possible foundation for the study and reevaluation of religious institutions.
For the past two decades religious groups have again begun to question evolution. Evolutionists have responded defensively but not offensively, even to the most absurd suggestions like pseudoscientific nonsense using perversions of the scientific method. It is an established practice in furthering a political agenda to look for the weaknesses of the opposition. Weaknesses are usually hidden well, but one's greatest weakness is usually also one's greatest strength, and that is what one brags about. The greatest strength of science is the scientific method of continuing doubt. If only one experiment does not have the outcome of all the others, the outcome of all the others is in doubt. Religious groups have exploited this concept by claiming that their pseudoscientific conclusions contradict those of the scientific community. And even though science has through many, many years always made religious groups look foolish when religious doctrine directly contradicted scientific discovery, an unbelievable number of people have been persuaded to accept the bogus religious doctrine, even some in the scientific community.
What is it that attracts us to the absurd? Why do we believe there is a God when the evidence is overwhelming that there is not and, based on this belief, why do we accept the claims of those even less informed than we are, and promises from people from whom we would not buy a used car? Rene Descartes said it is as if God has marked us as his creation just as any craftsman would, and that this mark is apparent in our yearning towards the Almighty. Friedrich Nietzsche said we instinctively seek an Uberman, an Overman, a Superman.
It seems reasonable that, in response to the past few decades of religious evaluation of evolution, an evolutionist should evaluate religion. From an evolutionist viewpoint, there are three instincts that have contributed to our survival that can also be associated with our religious development — the instincts of the hunted, the hunter and the herd — or in religious terminology, “heathen, pagan and atheist.” These are basic religious world views, and all other religions are various mixtures of these three pure religions.
The heathen (the hunted) blends in with his environment. To him the world is a part of him, one does what one does. There are rules to follow, and they are followed simply because they are the rules. Simple logic explains his world, and part of that logic is that an unseen world is part of the world he lives in. (Trees move because they have volition or because unseen spirits move them.) It is as it is. One interferes at one’s peril. The world is accepted as it is and what happens, happens for the best. The heathen is fatalistic. Heaven is the place he will go when he dies. It is a spirit world and it interacts with the visible world.
The pagan (the hunter) uses the world to his advantage. He believes in earning what he gets. He exploits the heathen by telling him he must do as he is told in order to protect himself from the spirits or to gain some reward like Heaven or good fortune. He tries to predict the future through signs and portents. He exploits the atheist by condemning him to Hell if he does not do as he is told or if he does not accept the current belief system or written doctrine, prophecy, or myth. The pagan is an opportunist.
The atheist (the herd, the pack) forms relationships. He thinks in terms of “us” and “them.” He sees the world in terms of good and bad; what we understand is good, what we do not understand is bad. What gives us pleasure is good, what causes pain is bad. There are those who are with us and there are those who are against us. There is no middle ground. He finds the concept of Hell appealing as a place appropriate for those not of his group. He guards the gates of Heaven from Satan’s minions. He is for family, community, country. The atheist is an organizer, a traditionalist, a follower of rules.
A simple way to discriminate among these three survival instincts is to remember: heathens believe in Heaven, pagans believe in profit, and atheists believe in affiliation. From these roots spring our many religions. The differences among these many religions sprout from the infinite varieties of mixtures of the three rational responses to our irrational (instinctive) determination to survive.

Birth of the Self

Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“I am a figment of my own imagination.”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“I am here at this point in time and space. Who are you?”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“ I am the water running under the bridge on which you are standing.”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“I am looking back at you through this three dimensional mirror.”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“ I am the other you are looking through to see me.”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“I was here a moment ago, but now I am still here.”
Ask me who I am, and I will tell you,
“I will be gone, and you will still be here.”
Ask me where I am, and I will tell you,
”You can see me. You can hear me. You can even touch me,
but you cannot come with me.”

Life and Death

In the beginning God created the heavens (sky) and the earth (rock), and they were motionless in the firmament. God created time (movement), and the Earth quaked in His presence, and the sky (air) tore from the solid rock storms of dust. The earth (dust) and the air (sky) spun joyous and free. But God bound the dust (Adam), spat upon it and formed of it a Golem. The air (Lilith), furious at the loss of her playmate, flung herself against the mud man to no affect. He could not be lifted. Into this barren land, whipped by a wicked wind around a man of mud, God brought forth life (Eve).
The earth sprouted plants in profusion, spewed forth animals of many shapes and many sizes and God said, "This is good." Adam (dust) and Eve (life) were now one and stood alone, for only Lilith (the wind) buffeted against them/it trying hard to be heard, but she was not. Adam/Eve was lonely, so God cleft them asunder and there were two; one more dust than life (and so called Adam) and one more life than dust (and so called Eve). Children of God, they romped and played in this land of Eden (delight), while Lilith (the wind) could only watch and moan in exasperation at her isolation.
There were two trees in this land grown for their adornment rather than for their fruit, the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life. The fruit of these trees was caustic: Knowledge, poisoning the mind with an awareness of its limitations while offering the painful possibility of overcoming those limitations, and Life, poisoning the body with an awareness of its death while putting it off indefinitely. God cautioned both Adam and Eve not to eat of the fruit of these trees.
Lilith spent much time rustling the leaves of these trees. And so it happened one day that Eve sat beneath the Tree of Knowledge as Lilith was entertaining herself in its branches. Lilith realized that this was an opportunity to rid herself of Eve (life) and return the earth to its original desolate state, with Adam (dust) returned to her as her playfellow (dust) free to cavort with her, twisting and turning, unconfined forever. She had only to cause Eve (life) to eat of the fruit and either die from its poison or, if she did not die, offend (disobey) God, incurring His wrath that He might smite her out of existence. She whispered in Eve's ear, "See how lovely is the fruit. Surely something so beautiful must taste as good as it looks." Hearing the hissing in her ear, Eve assumed the presence of a snake and the suggestion as a friendly gesture, so she did bite into the fruit and it was indeed delicious. So delicious, in fact, that she shared the delicacy with Adam. This Lilith had not anticipated and, in panic and in an attempt to save Adam from annihilation, sought out God and confessed. God was furious, not just at Lilith, but at the careless and thoughtless actions of His children. So He sought them out.
Meanwhile the poisonous fruit began to take effect. Adam and Eve suddenly became aware that they were not the same, that there were differences between them. In a futile attempt to deny those differences, they clothed themselves in the leaves of trees. Then God called, and they saw that He was very different from either of them; so terrifying was He that they hid themselves. God, of course, found them, fearful and trembling in His pre¬sence -- His own children, no longer trustful and trusting, afraid of their creator. "What will I do with you?" He said. "By making you whole, you will not learn to live by your decisions, and so you must suffer the consequences of that which you have brought upon yourselves. By eating of the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge you have condemned yourselves to a lifetime of learning (seeking to know) and, as you are both partially dust, you shall, in time, return to dust; but since both of you are also partially life, you will have the opportunity, painful as it may be, to leave parts of yourselves behind which will themselves leave parts of themselves behind before they return to dust. These parts will live on to thrive and survive for as long as they care for My creation."
Then He turned to Lilith and said, "Since freedom is so important to you, you shall become a creature of the night, a cool breeze crawling across the land. During the day you will meander mindless, slave to an earth that will be lifeless to you. You will become food for plants, plants will become food for animals, and all living things food for the progeny of Adam and Eve. Thus it will be."
And the full effects of the poison from the fruit of the Tree of Knowledge hit Adam and Eve and they were thrust from paradise into a world no longer of leisure but full of pain, and with hard work and sacrifice necessary just to stay alive. A new life lay before them, potentially a better one but very different from paradise.

Footnote: The story above is not an attempt to rewrite Genesis so much as an example of the many myths that were available as the basis for the Genesis mythological account of creation. Contradictions in the Biblical account suggests that at least two (probably three) prior myths were combined. Consider the possibility (probability) that the person who used them was making a mythological point; one that is felt, not intellectualized.

Cain and Abel (Good and Evil)

Adam and Eve were, from Paradise, thrown into a world outside of themselves, no longer an illusion so much as a delusion. They were forced to interpret a world that acted on (formed) them and demanded that they act upon (form) it. Into this world they threw parts of themselves and from those parts three boys were assembled, Cain and Abel and Seth. (There were probably girls too, but apparently they were not important enough to the point of this mythological interpretation of the beginning of civilization to be mentioned.)
Seth (the foundation) is, mythologically, the real precursor of the future of mankind. Cain (the point) and Abel (the pointless) are more representative of man's propensities.
Abel became part of the world, insomuch as he formed it to serve his needs. He was a farmer changing the earth's natural random casting of seeds by guiding said seeds towards his fields, that he might cultivate and harvest their fruit. He worked hard from morning to night for what he got. He saw no need to share the largesse he was responsible for with a God who, in his view, did not share his labor. He was Apollonian, a modifier of the shape of worldly things, a thinker and planner, bound by a kind of communal living. Cain was the opposite. He acted within the world. He was not really a part of it. He was a hunter and a shepherd. He sought not so much to change the world as to take advantage of its abundance. In other words, he took what he wanted when he wanted it and gave to God generously in appreciation for such largesse. He was Dionysian, impulsive, emotional, intuitive, free, an individual.
Thus Adam and Eve brought into this world good and evil, Cain and Abel. We still haven't figured out which was the good one and which the evil one though.
Abel sought to bind Cain to a communal life, to civilize (domesticate) him. Cain would not give up his freedom. Besides, he saw Abel as bound to the land, selfish and self-serving, a grower of seeds, not willing to sacrifice any significant portion of his produce to a god who made the growing of plants possible. And Cain could not walk away from such an insult (insinuating Abel's way of life was better than his when it was obviously not) to God and to himself. Abel was a perceived threat to his way of life. He killed Abel.
This would seem to suggest that Cain was evil and Abel good, but put yourself in Cain's shoes. He was feral (free) and consequently more adapted as an individual to survive. Abel suggested Cain submit to the responsibilities of organized repetitive labor, submitting himself to the demands of communal activity. Cain's honor was violated. He was being asked to be something he was not. Of course he was outraged.
Was Abel then the culprit? Was he the evil one? Put yourself in Abel's shoes. He was offering Cain an opportunity. As an individual, Cain was the stronger, the more likely to survive as an individual, but a community offers protection, predictability, and social intercourse. In other words, it weakens the individual, but gives him an opportunity to devote time to something other than survival. While Abel would plant, cultivate, and care for his crops, Cain would, without contributing anything to the growing of the produce, take the fruits of Abel's labor and loose his sheep upon Abel's property whenever he wanted. (Cain saw nothing wrong with this. He was a predator [a free man, unbound by obligation] and the fruit was the prey. And what was this property thing? To own animals domesticated by your own efforts and weapons of your own construction was one thing, but land was something else entirely. How could one claim land? Only God could claim the earth.) Of course Abel was outraged.
Cain was a predator, however, and thus the stronger, more adept at physical violence, and more likely to resort to violence. In his eyes Abel was weak, and by protecting what he perceived as prey, became prey himself. Cain pounced.
The Apollonian (civilized) man is a weaker individual than the Dionysian (wild) man, but as a member of a community the Apollonian man has the advantage of concerted effort of more than one, and Cain was forced to flee for his life. He could only kill the individual, not the collective might of many.
Let's philosophize.
We are Dionysian souls in Apollonian bodies. Our awareness is of an Apollonian world seen darkly through Dionysian proclivity. As Dionysian we are our emotional appetites (intuitive reactions [instincts]) developed over millions, even billions, of years in which our primeval ancestors were endowed with behavior patterns that proved successful enough to guarantee their survival over their less favorably endowed peers). The Apollonian world into which we were born shaped those appetites (instincts) because this Apollonian world is form and it demands form (shape [parameters of both behavior and physical characteristics, predictability]) if we are to be part of it.
As Dionysian, we inject substance (unpredictable emotional purpose and direction), into this otherwise purposeless and pointless Apollonian world in which our awareness projects itself. In other words, the world outside us shapes our otherwise shapeless inner self into a purpose-driven entity, while the world inside (which is really us) offers emotional impetus to shaping what is not us. In the language of philosophers, the world thus has form and substance (the substance being us).
Let's talk about our Apollonian nature and ourselves as communal (farmers, creators, nurturers). We could call this Apollonian nature "Praxis." Praxis originally meant in ancient Greek "action with a purpose." More recently it has meant (loosely) "learning by doing." In philosophy it has come to mean "the overwhelming effect our environment has in determining how we see ourselves." According to the Praxis view, when we were hunters and gatherers we thought of ourselves as earthly creatures no different from other living (even non-living) entities, during the Industrial Revolution we defined ourselves as mechanical contrivances, and today during the Information Era we view ourselves primarily as computational creatures.
The Praxis approach to human perspective can be useful insomuch as it simplifies our complexity, but it can also be detrimental to our destiny when we take it seriously, so seriously in fact that we attempt to wrap our reality around it in order to assure a better future. Religion is primarily Dionysian, and as such introduced the idea that we are flawed but can be perfected through submission and confession. Communism, whose dogma is based on the prophesies of Karl Marx, combined this potential for perfection with the Praxis view of human nature. By doing so it introduced this Dionysian concept of perfection (guilt) into a Praxis solution (changing [perfecting] the environment [state] to change [perfect] the citizens of this perfected state). The Dionysian drive (religion) is strong within us, so much so that Communism quickly became a religion and sought to establish itself as the only true religion (as other religions have been prone to do). Communism, however, replaced God with Heaven (a perfect world).
One method of perfecting our religious community is to reject (avoid, and ultimately eliminate [exterminate]) those not perfectible and guide those who are left toward utopia (Heaven). Another is (assuming that all people are perfectible over time and under the right circumstances and assuming that Praxis is indeed a possibility) perfecting our environment to eventually perfect us.
Logically then (from the viewpoint of those of us who are sufficiently domesticated [civilized]), the perfect state would be a communist state in which neighbor cared for neighbor, not just emotionally but physically also. Since previous environments have corrupted the perfectible human spirit so completely, many would find a perfect state unbearable. Consequently, a dictatorship would initially be necessary, and those who opposed such a necessity would need to be eliminated (for the good of the present participants and future generations, of course). To begin such a grandiose experiment, a state would be needed. Since most states are already taken, a revolution in at least one of them would be necessary, and since people are inured so deeply in their present imperfect state and have such unpleasant memories of dictatorships in the past, a future dictatorship would have to be presented as being under their control (though in fact it would not be) and if they would not buy that, as "for their own good." Thus we establish the "dictatorship of the proletariat (people)." It would have been more accurate to call it the "dictatorship for the proletariat" but that removes the feeling of control that justifies the immediate establishment of such a government.
Another attempt to establish a utopian state based on Praxis, but with the assumption that the majority of people are already perfect, is democracy. A democracy (not communism) is actually the "dictatorship of the people (proletariat)" insomuch as the majority dictates to the minority. America has been pretty much shielded from this actuality by its Bill of Rights which protects minorities from some of the excesses of a majority dictatorship. It also helps when the state is a republic based on democratic principles rather than a true democracy.
It does appear, however, that neither Communism nor Democracy is a workable form of governance. In some cases, small communities have survived and flourished under both communist and democratic leadership, but once community size grows beyond communal intimacy, coercion becomes necessary if the community is to survive, and so Communism and Democracy are exploited and ultimately forgotten (die). The natural heir to their demise, apparently, becomes a dictatorship. Consequently communism becomes an excuse for a continuing dictatorship rather than the promised perfected society, and democracy becomes a republic struggling to keep its head above water as its adhesion to democratic principles pulls it under. Interestingly, this struggle between autocracy and democracy seems to contribute to a republic continuing to grow stronger and more successful as it adapts to the demands of an active citizenry and strengthens its ties to their democratic principles. Time will tell.
I should point out that Communism is not the first (nor will it be the last) religion to attempt to establish a utopian state and thus a perfect people. Worshipping one's potentate (though unacceptably brutal by today's standards) has proven extremely successful. Pagan dictatorships were also impressively successful, as was the Christian control of monarchs quite recently. Even today, religious sects continue to exert themselves towards creating a perfect people in what they perceive as an imperfect world (or at least creating people acceptable in the eyes of a perfect God).
To be fair, the real reason communism and democracy are not effective forms of government is that, despite protestations from the religious community, people are neither perfect nor perfectible. Praxis (though very successful in selling products by exciting our basic emotions [fear, greed, hatred, etc.]) cannot perfect us simply because we are not, nor do we become, mere reflections of our environment. Praxis is useful if not taken too seriously but, like so many things, it can be obsessive and as such destructive, sometimes on a massive scale. Communism is a good example of the consequences of obsession. It made a huge mistake when it declared that Capitalism was evil and must be wiped from the face of the earth through revolution. Suddenly capitalism (a means of commerce) became Capitalism (the entity driven by greed) and it rose as a behemoth against what appeared to be its natural enemy.
The adherents of Democracy have been more circumspect, and consequently Democracy is still a powerful force among us. Insomuch as it advocates respect for minorities, it is productive. When, however, it becomes so overwhelming that it blinds us to its shortcomings and creates the impression that it is the governing force in our lives and the perfect and pure way to guarantee an honest and effective government, it is no better than Communism; it has become a religion. Replacing the American Electoral College (which allows states to choose their President) with a democratic direct election of a people's President, would be a good example of such an obsession and of Democracy as a religious (Dionysian) entity.
In a way, the development of hostility towards Communism and other forms of socialistic governance is a shame and is an indication that Capitalism too can become a religion. Keeping religion separate from the governing of the state (including the religions of Communism, Capitalism, and Democracy) contributes to effective governance. Capitalism and socialistic agendas have shown themselves as adaptable one to the other. The danger of Capitalism is its tendency to produce first an aristocracy and then an oligarchy. The danger of communism and democracy (socialistic societies) is that they both result in dictatorships and, as religions, all of them (Capitalism, Communism, and Democracy) are intolerant of those who would challenge their basic assumptions. They do not share control (especially Communism with Capitalism and Democracy with autocracy.
I do not intend to demean dictatorships as viable forms of governance, because they have proven to be more effective, more efficient, and more lasting than any more recent form of government. The problem is that it is really difficult to replace an incompetent and/or corrupt dictator with one more worthy. The success of a republic, on the other hand, is predicated on the judgment of its citizens and their representatives being equal to the task of guaranteeing an honest, efficient, effective, peaceful, and continuing government. This, of course, tends to overlook the human condition; we are not naturally honest, we question just about everything (which is good, but does not contribute to efficiency), and our very being is based on our will to survive (expressed in times of security as a determination to dominate [making a peaceful environment at best unpredictable]). Just how long a republic will endure is yet to be determined. It will have to last several more centuries to outlast dictatorships.
At this point I need to remind you that the previous paragraph (mythologically speaking, of course, since there are obviously several paragraphs which I have bundled together for the purpose of this reference) is pure mythology. It has merit only if you do not take it too seriously. Having said that, let's move on to something really outrageous.
Having discussed Praxis (the Apollonian -- form, predictability), let's talk about the human condition (Dionysian -- us [sinful, unpredictable, emotional, free, the hunter]). We'll call this Dionysian self "Freedom."
Freedom is all too often merely an assumption of entitlement. We honestly believe we are entitled to be free. We are not. Freedom has been won over many years and at the cost of much sacrifice, including lives lost, in its achievement and in its protection. There are some who are willing still to sacrifice their time, their riches, even their own safety, convenience, and life for the freedom of others. Unfortunately the more freedom we have the less we are willing to defend it for others and the more likely we are to demand it to excess as entitlement to our own (though we seem to honestly believe we are defending the rights of others) preferential treatment (actually at the expense of the rights of those we claim to be defending).
When seatbelts in cars were first introduced, some drivers removed them (cut them off with razor blades) and others simply refused to wear them, claiming their right to free choice. The argument is a sound one from a Dionysian perspective, insomuch as an individual has the right to make stupid decisions, but from an Apollonian perspective the safety (and even the lives) of those near and dear to the person making those stupid decisions are in jeopardy when they do not have access to, or are persuaded not to use, seat belts. Coercion (laws) was thus instituted, requiring those given access to public streets, highways, and freeways to protect themselves against themselves (their Dionysian proclivities).
A more defensive example of Apollonian coercion is the banning of treadless tires on freeways. Even though the law clearly prevented accidents from occurring because of a driver's inability to brake effectively on slick surfaces, our Dionysian self (our Freedom) was violated (or so our feelings led us to believe). So much for individual consequences of Freedom (Dionysian expectations).
Let's move on to collective consequences and at the same time create a kind of modern mythology to better portray the Cain and Abel myth in our everyday life, to stimulate strong opposing emotions based not really on whether the myth (tale) is true or not, but based on a bias previously incorporated into our being (radio and television and Internet commentators over the past ten years come to mind as having perfected this art of myth making). It should illicit a strong emotional reaction, either a resounding "Yes!" (a justification for one's hostility) or an every bit as passionate "No!" (outrage at such an unjustified accusation). The point of the story, the thing that makes it mythological, is less obvious and not readily discernable unless the impact is strong enough and the individual reading the story so surprised, so taken off balance, that a sense of humor kicks in (the rationale is so serious it cannot be taken seriously). Laughter, and then the exclamation, "You can't be serious!"
You're right.
I can't be.
Remember Cain and Abel and prepare for a mythological moment. The truth or falsity of the following, seemingly brilliant, historical analysis is not the point.
During the Vietnam War there was a rising up of those opposed to an unjustified (so they claimed) war (police action on foreign soil). This protest (though justified from an Apollonian viewpoint if the war was an emotional reaction rather than a rational response to a perceived threat), became the vehicle (with some encouragement from the Democratic Party) for a movement against all war, and consequently against the drafting of citizens to fight the war. As a result, the draft was abolished. As a consequence (unforeseen consequence, collateral damage), today we depend increasingly on a mercenary militia to protect us. The problem with mercenaries is that they serve for monetary gain rather than patriotic principles (protecting families and friends [as draftees or volunteers in a regular army do]) and, because mercenaries are paid so much more than the country's regular army, many who might have made a career in the regular army (usually those who are most proficient) join the militia believing they are still serving their country as patriots, but with better pay. Over time their priorities may change and their loyalties shift from their country to their mercenary leaders.
The question one must ask is, "Are these militia members indeed patriots?" What happens when their services are no longer needed or when they become too expensive to maintain? What happens if groups hostile to their parent country offer more, or if their country can no longer support them in the style to which they have become accustomed? In fact, since mercenaries are hired primarily for their skill rather than their loyalties, how many of our mercenaries are American? This is what the so-called "hippie movement" has spawned.
There is a comparable "hippie movement" today. Just like the previous one, it has centered on one goal that was not the original intent. The "hippie movement" of the 1960's could not end the Vietnam War and may very well have extended it, but it did (by seeking a single goal as a solution to the problem it could not successfully resolve [end the draft and give birth to our mercenary militia]) succeed in resolving a problem that was not really a problem. The current "hippie movement" seems caught in a very similar situation.
The "Tea Party" protest began with integrity, as did the protest against the Vietnam War and, just as the Democratic Party absorbed the protest against the Vietnam War, so is the Republican Party attempting to do in the current situation. The Democratic Party took advantage of the outrage against the war, picking a single issue on which that anger could be projected, and so has the Republican Party taken advantage of the outrage against our crashed economy, picking a single issue on which that outrage could be projected. For the Democratic Party that single issue was the draft; for the Republican Party it is the removal of our present president. At this point the "Tea Party" protest became the "tea baggers," a 21st Century repetition of the 20th Century "hippie" fiasco. The consequences have not yet been determined, but since (just like its twin fifty years ago) the present protest is Dionysian, it may bode ill for an Apollonian (rational) future.
And so Cain (Dionysian, Freedom [feral], the hunter [predator]) and Abel (Apollonian, Civilized [domesticated], the farmer [prey]) continue their struggle. The natural consequence of this struggle would seem to be the death of Abel (the present structure) and the success of Cain (the destroyer with little thought of future repercussions). The Bible does not treat Cain's triumph kindly. Abel is not resurrected, but historically (mythologically speaking), no matter how often Cain (Freedom) kills his brother, Abel (Civilization) is resurrected (restructures chaos [limits freedom]), thrives and multiplies, while Cain is condemned to wander around the perimeter of this civilized society inflicting occasional pain and injury, which quickly heal, making Abel stronger and more resilient to future attacks.
Cain lives among us as us (some more Cain than others). Though we are domesticated, we are never completely tamed. If we are submissive, we choose to be so (whether we realize it or not). Though we are feral, we are family (we do not eat our young) and as we extend our emotional (family) connections, we continually reevaluate our definition of, and our right to, "personal freedom" at the expense of the freedom of others.

The Ark

Though we seem settled and our thoughts determined by preconceived directions and boundaries, we are, in fact, in constant mental conflict. As rational beings as well as evolved animals, our minds move in two often opposing directions -- the logical (mechanical) direction (which we revere, probably way too much) and the tribal (communal, emotional) direction (which we hold in contempt, but which we nevertheless adhere to with great passion and perseverance). In effect, we live in two entirely different worlds which must, even so, function efficiently together if we are to function effectively.
Our logical self is mostly mechanical in its contrivances, whereas our tribal self is based largely on instinctive reactions to situations. Both are shaped by the passing down of information (for our mechanical [dehumanized] self’s instruction) and of tradition (for our instinctive [communal] self’s enrichment). The shape of information creates a foundation on which more information can be built and by which the usefulness of articles that surround us can be determined. The structure grows and is refined from generation to generation, as is the usefulness and the effectiveness of our tools and weapons. The shape of tradition determines our culture, the things we value, and how we value ourselves, others, and our surroundings in general.
Our logical self drives us in the direction of hard facts and encourages us to become uncaring, cold and distant from those who care about us. We become mechanical, machine like, without emotion, no longer human. Our tribal self pulls us into an irrational, immediately gratifying, survival-only psychological mood -- animalistic. We strike out instinctively at those who offend us, become hedonistic, trust indiscriminately, kill when provoked. The constant conflict between these two tendencies (the balancing of the legal and the tribal [illegal, honor bound] that we experience every moment of our lives yet are unaware of) is what keeps us human.
Our legal self is our rational instinct, no different from any other survival skill but very effective in our struggle to survive and to dominate, and therefore highly prized by us even to the detriment of our other survival skills which we have developed over millions of years. We are pretty much squeezing our other survival instincts into submission and, over time, perhaps even into oblivion, leaving only our rational instinct driving us toward our ultimate destiny.
There are consequences to this. What will happen to poetry, music, introspection, dance, social intercourse? Can we remain human after our animal (so-called) instincts are no more? Do we want to be rational? I would suggest that it is just as important to our future survival to continue to develop our irrational nature as it is to continue to fine tune our rational self. The struggle between the two must continue, but it must be one of mutual respect rather than one of malicious and destructive self-degradation.
I’m going to be more specific. The current confrontation between science and religion is a perfect example of an inner turmoil gone bad. Our irrational (intuitive) nature (religion) has risen to challenge our rational (dehumanized) nature (science). Rather than define the struggle as a reaction to repression, however, religion has chosen to represent itself as being just as rational (scientific) as its perceived adversary. By doing so it has assured for itself an immediate emotional dominance, but ultimately a catastrophic failure because it simply does not have the rational resources to justify its claims. Only by accepting the truth of what it really is (irrational, intuitive) can religion guarantee its deserved place in the human experience.
Religion must be irrational if it is to be relevant. It is a relationship, an intuitive response, a feeling; it is not a fact in the scientific sense, but rather a fact in an emotional sense. There is no need to justify a relationship any more than there is to justify a feeling, an intuition. There does become a need for justification when our survival skills, no longer immediately necessary, are morphed into a determination to dominate; when religion -- whether Theist or Atheist -- moves beyond sharing intuitive awareness into a demand that a personal intuition be replicated in others. This initially creates confusion which leads to obfuscation and further confusion, making a mockery of the original authors of books considered holy (the Bible, the Koran, the Veda, etc.), and ultimately to the demise of religion as enrichment and the rise of religion as dehumanizing rules and regulations. Religion as inspiration is needed if the human race is to continue as...well... human.

Abraham (Sacrifice)

In a friendly environment where there are few if any natural enemies or physical challenges to their survival and where food is readily available, animals consistently eat themselves to death and/or pollute their habitat with waste products until ultimate extinction is assured. We are animals. We cannot help ourselves. We can convince ourselves that we have evolved beyond our animal nature, or that some benign force outside ourselves or beyond our ken is so interested in our continued existence that it will interfere in the natural course of events to save us from our destiny of destruction, but convincing ourselves of what might be does not make it so. We are destined to die, as individuals and as a species, because no matter how hard we try, we cannot change our nature. Thus says the evolutionist.
Animals eat and procreate and eat and procreate until there is nothing left to eat. Animals consume what is useful and discard what is not until there is more that is useless than there is of what can be used and ultimately choke trying to consume what cannot be consumed. So it is. It does not happen quickly, usually only over many years, centuries, even millennium, but eventually it comes to pass. Such is the lesson of Revelation. Such are we.
There is a glimmer of hope. Animals often procreate less when food is scarce, when they are forced to sacrifice something, when necessity outweighs natural inclinations, when actual hunger overwhelms natural instinct. This is the Catholic solution. We must sacrifice our animal nature, become something more than animal, something more perfect than animal, to earn the right to an everlasting and blissful life.
Protestants suggest that Love is what makes life worth living. Without Love, life becomes pretty barren. They suggest that even God is capable of Love, even that God is Love. For the evolutionist this is not likely, since Love is an animal emotion developed as a survival tool over millenniums. It expresses an overwhelming need, and as such is only dispensed towards those considered not to be a threat, those to be used without fear of unforeseen consequences, those held in contempt. This would, on the surface, seem a natural aspect for God since we are certainly no threat to Him and so much less than Him as to merit nothing more than contempt, but such logic is misleading. Love is a needy emotion. It is painful when our love is rejected. We can even be emotionally damaged. To suggest that God needs us gives us power over Him we should not and do not have, else God is not an all-powerful God. Love would make Him vulnerable to manipulation.
A common mistake in our relation to reality is to confuse who we are with what we are. It is useful to be aware of what is not us just as it is useful to be aware of what is us. It is just as useful to be aware of how who we are contributes to our evaluation and even perception of what is not us and to our perception and evaluation of what we are. It is absolutely vital that we do not let what we are and what we are not overwhelm who we are. It is just as important that we do not let who we are overwhelm what is not us and what we are. That is probably too concise to be easily understood, so I will try to explain more clearly.
Science is, or should be, principally (perhaps even exclusively), concerned with what is (the world apart from us) and how that what is effects what we are (our physical self). Intuition is viewed by us with suspicion and rightly so. Religion is, or should be, principally, even exclusively, concerned with who we are (our intuitive [survival mechanisms] selves) and how what is (that which is not our intuitive selves) affects us (us being neither physical nor rational, our spirit [what drives us], and our soul [the being our decisions have created]). The rational is viewed with suspicion and rightly so.
To effectively study and determine external reality, science forces us to become dehumanized. We must not allow our emotions to interfere with objective reality lest our self-interest overwhelm our common interest (our conclusions will be false and misleading). If we allow ourselves to be overwhelmed by this requirement of objective speculation, we devaluate human, animal, and vegetable life. All may, and perhaps must be, sacrificed for the perceived common good. We may even be tempted to make such a sacrifice for the purpose of obtaining more information (an argument for artificial intelligence being the replacement for biological life forms). In other words, curiosity could indeed kill the cat (all of us). Religion consistently makes this point by reminding us that we are fallible, that God alone is perfect. It warns us to be cautious.
By consistently making this point and making it such an immediate and world-shattering event, religion risks (and occasionally encourages) overwhelming external reality with internal torment, replacing fact with fiction or, at best, unsubstantiated speculation and at worst even outright lies. The justification is that by so doing they are averting the impending disaster, and (by some) even embracing a disaster that they believe is inevitable.
I am reminded of a member of a church to which I used to belong who witnessed regularly concerning her born-again experience. I pointed out to her that she kept changing her story. She replied, "Look at how many people have changed their lives and joined the church because of my testimony. I lie for the Lord." Objectively (dehumanized) I must agree with her. She had contributed greatly, not just increasing the membership in the church, but also to the quality of life of those within the church, but subjectively (intuitively) I am troubled. Overwhelming the irrational with the rational may reaffirm who we are, but I am convinced it will adversely affect who we will become.
It seems important to me and, I am convinced, to the future of mankind that religion and science work together in an atmosphere of mutual respect, not just to improve the human condition but to affirm the importance of all life-forms. Knowledge is important, but so too are the human emotions (that which gives value to knowledge).
One example is the story of crows. Significance has been given by evolutionists to the persistence of crows (who, in the face of danger, are seemingly playful but actually risking death) which could contribute to their survival, not individually, but as a species. Crows have consistently been observed gathering around a carcass being eaten by wolves. Instead of waiting for the wolves to leave and feasting on the remains, the crows move closer and closer to the carcass until they are within the reach of the wolves' comfort zone. The wolves lunge, narrowly missing (and occasionally capturing and killing) a crow. The crows scatter and then return, moving even closer to be scattered again (often with the loss of life) until the wolves tire of the game and the crows feast undisturbed next to the noses of the wolves.
I remember reading somewhere that there were children (in Beirut, I believe) who ran across the streets in the hail of bullets and then back again dodging almost certain death. One would fall and his companions would pause for a moment, laugh, and then continue the game. Could this be some similar intuitive survival mechanism, though misdirected and pointless, to that of the crows.
Before I continue, I need to remind you that we are developing a mythology here. A story is a story. It is not necessarily true, but neither is it necessarily false. The point is in the reaction of the listener. The story is believed long enough to evaluate it, not on its veracity, but on its merit (Does it serve a purpose? Is there an intuitive response having less to do with factual content than with feeling?)
There is the story of the monkey who, when its band is threatened by a large predator, suddenly breaks from his/her friends and flees hopelessly. The predator ultimately catches and devours the cowardly monkey while the rest of the group wanders off. Evolutionists suspect that the monkey did not flee in panic, but sacrificed himself/herself for the greater good. These evolutionists attribute the behavior, not to altruism, but to a built-in genetic kill switch, much as that found in cells programmed to die so that other similar cells can develop in some predetermined fashion. The alternatives to this mechanistic explanation are to admit either that monkeys have volition and altruistic intent, or that there is always a weak (cowardly) individual in some groups overcome by the survival instinct of flight. At this moment in time, the preferred explanation is an evolutionist one: that of an overwhelming intuitive conclusion of the monkey who flees that the group cannot protect him/her. People do not feel comfortable when human virtue is bestowed on their lowly brothers and sisters.
Interestingly enough, evolutionists would extend this genetic kill switch to the human animal as well. They would say there is, in direct conflict with our survival instinct, a sacrifice instinct that has contributed to the survival of the human species; that sacrificing one's life is not totally altruistic or volitional, but at least partly genetic and involuntary. This may be true, but the ability to short-circuit the kill switch suggests enough volition to make sacrifice a matter of choosing between two intuitive (instinctive) compulsions. I think the monkey was a hero. The crows, I think, are playing a risky but emotionally satisfying game somewhat similar to our less lethal sports: football, tag, hockey, etc. The children in Beirut, on the other hand, seem to be acting out some primordial compulsion with no purpose and with no will other than that of the non-existent entity that has been created by their camaraderie.
It has been suggested that there are two conflicting drives in the human psyche: the Dionysian unrestrained emotional (intuitive) outburst (either momentary or prolonged) and the Apollonian rationally constrained behavior. The first is chaotic but substantial, creative, giving expression to feelings and new ideas. The second is order, constraining those feelings (sometimes to the point of not really feeling them). Dionysian may be seen as substance (giving purpose or meaning to existence) and Apollonian as form (giving shape or predictability) to existence. Our inner self (intuitive skills developed over many years that have proven valuable to the survival of our species) and the turmoil of conflicting survival skills might be considered our Dionysian self and the outer world in which we must survive might be considered Apollonian. Slowly, over a very long period of time, we have begun to recognize that, though the outside world has no apparent purpose (substance), it does have predictability (form) and as a consequence as much value to our continued existence as our instinctive responses to that predictability.
The problem with predictability is that it tends to box us in. The form (predictability) makes life (our inner self) so easy that our emotions (intuition) seem unnecessary to our survival. They become instead a recreational activity and as such submit to order (planned predictability). Our Dionysian self rebels into excesses and abandon, and consequently our Apollonian self becomes ever more constricting and rigid. We are, however, resilient and can adapt. We have developed a sense of humor. Laughter has become a safety valve for the overly enthusiastic and for the overly controlling. It releases us from the bonds of chaos and from the bonds of compulsively giving everything shape. The Dionysian self sacrifices his/her absorption in emotional conflict and the Apollonian self sacrifices his/her absorption in creating boundaries. Both share the experience of letting go. It brings the Dionysian self and the Apollonian self together.
At this point I cannot resist bringing God into our discussion. There is a literary device which ends a story the way it was begun. I mention this because it seems to have been employed to explain God's relation to mankind in the story of Abraham. The story begins with Abraham challenging God when God decides to destroy Gomorrah and it ends when God challenges Abraham to sacrifice his son, Isaac. God wins when He is challenged though He does make concessions. Abraham loses when he is challenged because he is not willing (perhaps, being human, not able) to make concessions. God agrees to spare Lot, though it is questionable whether Lot deserved to be excused, but it is more difficult to understand how Abraham, if he did in fact fail the test, failed it (why he did not spare Isaac).
God obviously respected Abraham enough to listen to his objections, even to the point of yielding when He must have known, being God, that Abraham was wrong. At the end of the story, when God gave Abraham the opportunity to be the Abraham at the beginning of the story and to challenge Him, Abraham did not. He failed the test. Abraham did not respond with respect. He responded with love.
Love is a needy emotion. It is a form of contempt inasmuch as it obligates the recipient to respond in kind. The recipient may not respond satisfactorily, but that does not necessarily change one's feelings of love and the need to be loved in return. I do not mean to demean love, only to point out its source, its motivation.
Reciprocal love is healthy. It's natural. It's part of being human, of being an animal. It gives us the opportunity to interrelate with those very different from ourselves, but is by no means a cure for all that ails us. Today's world is in danger, I think, of glorifying Love to the point of deification, even accusing God of loving (needing) us and in some religious groups of being Love itself.
The story of Abraham seems to make this point: God does not love us, He respects us. He treats us and views us as His equals. Jesus of Nazareth came close to this conclusion when he called us God's children. We are, of course, not God's equals. It would be arrogant to presume such a thing, but the realization that God expects us to act responsibly in our everyday life and as equals, deserving His respect (even if in fact we do not really deserve it), in His presence needs serious consideration, if only for our future well-being.
Assuming that God does respect rather than love us, what could He have expected Abraham to do when asked to prove his love by sacrificing his beloved son? Abraham was faced with a dilemma. If he refused, the extent of his love for God would be in question, and to agree would mean the loss of his son whom he loved deeply. As a test of love, he had no real choice, but as a test of respect he had an obligation to once again challenge God. If his love were indeed being challenged, Isaac should have died that day. He did not. The fact that he did not gives us an additional insight into God and into mankind as well. Thus there is a way around the two conflicting emotional views (Dionysian and Apollonian) of the world and of ourselves. God gave us a sense of humor.
Our Dionysian self would have viewed the sacrifice of Isaac as a necessary tragedy and would have made much of Abraham's emotional upheaval and self-loathing and of God's uncaring nature. Our Apollonian self would have viewed the sacrifice as logically necessary and proof that Abraham loved God above all else and God as doing what God does: proving that He is our master and that He demands unqualified obedience. Both selves would have demanded the sacrifice of Isaac. So what is the meaning of the reprieve?
I would suggest that God has given mankind a gift. Evolutionists would explain it as a survival tool developed over many years and through many species prior to our own as exemplified in the crows, the monkeys, even the children risking their lives pointlessly in Beirut. He gave us laughter, a sense of humor that bridges the hopeless gap between our Dionysian and Apollonian dialectic.
When we are boxed in by our Apollonian bias and there is no escape, we can laugh (melt or tear) our way out. When we are drowning in the chaos of our Dionysian self-indulgence, we can laugh (swim rather than thrash) our way to the surface. Laughter, however, requires sacrifice. We must give up our bias. The Apollonian requires sacrificing some of our security in order to be more free and the Dionysian requires us to sacrifice some of our freedom for a little more control.
The following two items are examples, the first of the Apollonian (totally structured, but hopeless and without any solution other than elimination or grudging toleration, inspiring anger, frustration, and bitterness), the second a more Dionysian portrayal of the same problem (more amusing than hopeless, still without a solution other than to enjoy and ridicule the spectacle and even encourage its repetition at some future date). The first item is certainly justified, but seems not to understand the conditions that encourage political behavior. The second is definitely not justified. It is a mythological representation of the first, but it is more human.
Which just might be the point of sacrifice: how can we become more human without becoming less human. I know that seems paradoxical, but the paradox is the problem. Spiritually, how do we become more like God without losing our humanity? From an evolutionist point of view, as animals, how do we feel more deeply without our emotions overwhelming our good sense and consequently our humanity? Exactly what personal sacrifices must we make to become who we (supposedly) really are?

The Politician

Unbelievably ignorant, incredibly vain
is man,
Demanding his freedom, denying its gain
when he can.

Living today, dying tomorrow,
he gropes.
Destroyed by his past, crying his sorrow,
he hopes.

Claiming what future, declaiming what end,
is he?
To that extent he can dream, can always pretend,
it will be.

The Race of the Century

Republicans and Democrats seem to have adjusted well to the results of the last few presidential elections. Liberals and Conservatives, on the other hand, seem determined to convince one another that the other side attempted, one side successfully, to steal the election. Consequently, I don’t think it would be too far out of line to review the last few races for President from a slightly different perspective. It’s not who wins or loses; it’s how you run the race. It’s having fun when you run.
Liberals are losers. They shoot themselves in the foot before the race even begins. This alone should assure Conservatives of victory, but Conservatives are cruel. The minute the race begins, they shoot the Liberal candidate in the other foot. Then they trot along beside the Liberal continuing to shoot him in the foot as he crawls on his belly toward the finish line, all the while making fun of how ridiculous he looks and how clumsy he is. Sometimes the spectacle becomes so amusing the Liberal crosses the finish line while Conservatives are rolling on the ground in laughter. And a Liberal, quite accidentally, wins an election.
This is what happened in the race between President Bush the Elder and Bill Clinton. In fact, President Bush somehow offended the Conservatives early in the race, and they shot their own candidate in the foot. He still could have won, but he couldn’t hobble around them as they trotted along beside Clinton hilariously shooting him in the foot also. And so Bill Clinton won the election on his belly.
Furious at having lost to such a loser, the Conservatives continued to shoot at his left foot. Consequently, the now-President Clinton tended to put more weight on his good foot and so began to lean to the right. Since he tended to be right, he was not only a popular and successful president, he did something Liberals don’t often do. He solved a problem. Watching the Conservatives religiously pump bullet after bullet into that throbbing left foot, he suddenly realized what the source of his affliction was, and he found a solution. He banned guns.
That brings us to the next election. Clinton could not shoot himself in the foot, because guns were banned; and the Conservatives could no longer shoot him in the other foot, because they had no guns to shoot. So, no sooner had the race begun than the Conservatives ran onto the track pointing their fingers at President Clinton and shouting, “Bang! Bang! Bang!” That didn’t slow him down at all. He surged across the finish line. Bob Dole didn’t even make it from the start line. There were so many Conservatives on the track, he couldn’t move. They just ignored him and kept pointing their fingers at President Clinton yelling, “Bang! Bang! Bang!” When President Clinton crossed the finish line, and they realized that pointing their fingers and yelling, “Bang!” didn’t work as well as real guns, they went berserk and piled on the President, giving him a good thrashing.
This brings us to the last electoral race of the 20th century. The Conservatives were so busy beating up on President Clinton they didn’t even notice the race in progress. Consequently, they didn’t get in the way of George Bush the Younger as he raced along beside Al Gore. Unfortunately, Bush had a small impediment. He was a little backward. So his friends had to run along beside him telling him where the finish line was.
Meanwhile, Al Gore had his own problems. He kept tripping over his tongue. Normally, President Clinton would have run beside him holding his tongue to keep him from tripping over it, but President Clinton was busy being beaten up by the Conservatives. Al Gore could still have won the race easily. All he had to do was keep his mouth shut. Or bite his tongue. He did neither. While Bush was running the race backward, Gore stumbled along beside him tripping over his tongue.
Since Bush was running backward, Gore should have won by a nose. In fact, the closer Gore got to the end of the race the longer his nose grew. Seeing this, the relatives of Bush ran to the finish line and attempted to move it farther away from that rapidly protruding proboscis. They succeeded in moving it away from Gore, but in doing so, skewed it toward Bush. Seeing that he had crossed the finish line and not realizing it was skewed and so not the real finish line, (remember, Bush was running backward and couldn’t see the real finish line) he stopped running and raised his arms in victory shouting, “I won!”
No one paid any attention except the Liberal Court, which ran onto the track and tried to wrest control of the line from Bush’s relatives. Being Liberals, they tripped over their own feet and succeeded only in skewing it more. As the finish line flashed beneath his feet for the second time, Bush forgot that he was standing still and cried again, “I won!” Still no one paid him any heed. Finally, in exasperation, the Conservative Court rushed onto the track and grabbed Bush, picked him up, and threw him across the real finish line. George W. Bush will long be remembered as the man who overflew the United States government.
Another electoral race was run and won. Did I mention that Liberals are losers? If I did not, let me make the point another way. The Electoral College reminds us that our government is a Democratic Republic. Our Republic is a collection of states. Our Democracy is a collection of people. We elect people near our home (the state we live in) to represent our state in selecting (or electing) the executive who will run the larger (national) government. This Electoral College is what protects us from a dictatorship selected by a favored few swayed by self-interest and from a dictatorship selected by an uninformed populace swayed by emotion.
The Republican part of our government makes America strong. Without it, we would lose our Democracy. The Democratic part of our government gives each voting citizen some control over those who govern and so protects our liberty and our rights, to whatever extent we value those commodities. Democracy is the heart and soul of America. But without our Republic, Democracy would die from its own empathy. And if we do not properly understand our Democracy, it could be the vehicle that seriously weakens or even destroys our Republic.
With that thought, let the races continue. And, with a little luck, we may have many more as exciting as the one that introduced us to this new millennium.

Moses

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).

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.

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.