Our Greatest Delusion: Why You Too Should be Skeptical About Free Will (Part II of II)

In Part One of this exploration of “Our Greatest Delusions: Free Will” I made a rudimentary case for a determinist worldview—which if true would mean that we humans don’t actually have the “free will” to choose or decide anything for ourselves, but rather exist as pawns in a big cause-and-effect game where everything that happens is fully caused by prior events. Now whether or not you buy this argument, my goal is to raise consciousness about the profound impact that genetics, life circumstances, environment, and thousands of external variables have in shaping and defining every individual life. It is also my hope that you’ll see we are not “created equal,” do not have equal opportunity, nor are we the self-made, self-actualized people think we are. Lastly, perhaps you’ll join me in pondering the role that our merit- and competition-driven delusion of “free will” plays in helping us to ignore human suffering and inequity.

In Part One I suggested we are entirely the result of a cause-and-effect chain of events, and that our successes, failures, and every “decision” we have ever made could not have been made other than exactly the way they were. “Free will” is a delusion, and we are fully caused to make every “choice” and execute every single action and behavior—by our brain chemistry, life experience, environment, biology, knowledge or lack thereof, access to role models, brain power or lack thereof, and billions of other factors. But what if our delusion of free will is actually an increasingly obsolete, evolved trait that prevents us from dwelling on our own humanness, encourages us to detach from other living things, and helps rationalize away our need to attend to human suffering and the inherent inequities of life? Should we not try to transcend that part of our nature in the interest of self improvement, as we do so many others?

One of the bedrock notions of American and Western thinking is the ideal, and the illusion, that we live in a meritocracy, where those who achieve do so from a level playing field and anyone can win if they work hard enough. We believe in competition and survival of the fittest—in what I might argue has become a perverse religion. Unfortunately, this appears to be a bastardization of the very natural process of Darwinian evolution. While I am no biologist, it seems that Darwinian evolution by natural selection is better described as “survival of the luckiest”—those with certain random mutations that favor survival over cumulative generations—than it is the “survival of the fittest,” which we have come to interpret as a forward-looking, solution-seeking, conscious and willful intent on the part of living things to change and make things better. The moths don’t say “Gee, some spots would sure help camouflage me from predators. I sure hope my kids and grandkids will help grow some.” That is not what evolution is, or how it works.

Very contrary to true evolution—descent with modification via natural selection—our Western and American ways of worshiping achievement tend in the direction of Hitler-like misunderstanding of evolution, and a eugenics-like idea of willing our way to an elect, chosen, superior status. We thusly prioritize competition over cooperation through what has become a perverse, self-rationalizing, self-aggrandizing, self-deifying vehicle that allows us to ignore those who suffer and are quite literally “less lucky.” Essentially these are the effects of free will, self determination, and to some degree libertarian capitalism.

We believe in competition at work; we regularly use primitive phrases like “fighting for” something; we want students to compete for their fair share in the world, not build bridges toward mutual benefit. And we do it all under the guise of ensuring victory via merit, by “choosing forward” in order to be on top, in a strategic position of power over someone else.

We view those who “fail” and those whom we callously chastise as “mental midgets” as less worthy beings. If only they had done it our way, we tell ourselves; if only they had worked as hard as I have; if only they were as smart as I am; if only they weren’t lazy; if only they weren’t fat; if only they could be like me, what a world it would be. But what if you didn’t really do it?

You can dismiss this argument against free will all day long, but let me ask you a pivotal question: What if I’m mostly wrong, but we still aren’t completely autonomous and self actualized? What if I’m right only to the extent that strict free will and the freedom to make uncaused choices does not fully exist, and Ron’s life as a drug dealer was merely the most likely outcome of events, rather than the only possibility. What if at every pivotal circumstance and decision point in Ron’s life he had a “free will” magical ability to make uncaused thoughts and uncaused decisions, but he was still extremely likely to make the choices he did, given the circumstances, brain chemistry, lack of role models, lack of education—which carried him through his world of abject poverty? What if I’m wrong and these weren’t “determined” choices that couldn’t have been made otherwise, but were nonetheless the most rational choices given what Ron knew and his circumstances at the time? In other words, fine, I’ll give you back your delusion of free will, but you still must see that Ron deserves some compassion and sympathy, and cannot be solely, wholly, 100% responsible for his plight!

Surely you see, however, that even this simple recognition flies in the face of the positive, self-affirming pep talk that nature has programmed us to give ourselves. We are programmed to dismiss those who don’t compete well or achieve—perhaps by nature, but perhaps also by modern culture, social structure, and the worship of the gods of achievement that I would argue have become institutionalized only in the last few centuries here in the West—since Adam Smith and Charles Darwin’s great works became widely known, and also widely distorted.

In his groundbreaking book “Outliers,” Malcom Gladwell—knowingly or not—made one of the best real-word cases for determinism that I have seen in mainstream literature. In my opinion, he blows the lid off the  greatest lie in America: work hard and work smart and you too can accomplish what Bill Gates has. That lie fuels management books galore about how we can be the next Jack Welch, or the next Steve Jobs, or the next Bill Joy, or the next Rockefeller or Carnegie from the prior century. But this book explains very precisely the unique circumstances that gave these people an amazing, exclusive advantage, and why they were in the exact right place, at precisely the right point in time, to do exactly what they did. You can read all the books you want, but you’ll never get the chance these people got. It’s that simple, and this reality is but a piece of a complex puzzle that makes us far less self determined than we can even begin to imagine.

Gladwell also explains in detail why one of the greatest supposed meritocracies in North America, Canadian Hockey, also turns out to heavily favor only kids who are born in the first quarter of the calendar year. Read his book and find out why. The point is that supposedly nobody gets to high levels in Canadian hockey unless they’ve earned it. You can’t buy your way in, you can’t cajole your way in. At least that’s what we thought. But it turns out there are factors beyond the control of even the best athletes, that make it extremely unlikely that someone healthy, fit, and super-capable, if born in November, can EVER succeed as a great hockey player in Canada. Who’d have thunk? Another meritocracy that isn’t.

What about the self-made kid who came from nothing and became a millionaire after vowing that he’d never, ever be poor again? He surely did it all by himself didn’t he? Actually, no. To begin with, he had the brains. He also had the circumstances and wiring that caused him to be driven—perhaps a natural hyperactivity that was helpful. But he was also exposed to ideas and knowledge at key times in his life. He didn’t just make up the idea that he could succeed beyond his social class, as if out of thin air! He built on the knowledge to which he was exposed—and stood on the shoulders of all those humans who lived before him and contributed to collective wisdom. He had access to television; he happened to hear stories of people achieving their dreams; he had a teacher who cared and inspired him; he was once in the right place at the right time and impressed someone who lent him a hand, because he had been taught certain manners and saw on TV how to impress people. He did NOT just make up all these brilliant insights from nothingness. He had the brain power to assimilate and correlate, and each circumstance allowed the next; but much was still luck—as was his genetics, and the fact that he was healthy and was not a Down’s Syndrome sufferer. Every decision and snapshot of his life was fully caused by many prior events, beginning before birth! (Thus it would seem we should be very careful with arrogance and pride.)

The Ramifications of Arrogance

Ever notice how people who are naturally thin have their noses highest in the air about physical fitness? Never mind that studies prove the average person is less than 5 pounds different in their fit states than in their most out-of-shape states. Five pounds!!! That is a fact! The truth is that we LOVE to think everything we have, and everything we accomplish, and everything we are, is because we are so bright, brilliant, fit, hard-working, “together,” resilient, loving, or tenacious (and those who don’t have what we do are not these things). But what if NONE of it is our doing? Most people simply cannot live with that idea. But if we truly care about truth, and if we truly care about the plight of others, we must charge on.

Our Western school of thought tends to say that the “have-nots” do not “have” because they haven’t played the game correctly. They’ve made bad decisions. They’ve done the wrong things. They’ve adopted the wrong morals. They’ve been stupid. They’ve been careless. But must not we set aside our arrogant addiction to our own greatness, our own self-made status, and ask the simple question: “What if there is even a shred of truth to this argument of determinism?” Would that not change everything about how we view compassion, safety nets, education, social institutions, and government?

What moral obligation would we have to end our rule as the last 1st-world nation on earth that bankrupts the “dumb shits” for failing to purchase health insurance when they lose their jobs—and delegating them to the bankrupt status of indentured servant for the rest of their lives (as if they weren’t already)? How might we view our dismal rate of social class mobility? How might we view the fact that “The top 1 percent of earners took home 23.5 percent of income, up from 9 percent three decades earlier” (NYT, Aug. 20, 2009), as those in power buy themselves ever greater advantages and corporate welfare—and now Wall Street bailouts. How might we view the massively increasing concentration of wealth among the rich in the last 20 years, despite oodles and oodles of self-help books like the Secret, or Joel Olstein’s “prosperity gospel” that tell us we are all actually determined to get anything we want just by believing and asking? (Obviously those books and sermons aren’t working—or are working for only the super rich.)

It Matters

From the healthcare debate to economic theory and religion, the degree to which we really have “free will” is a vitally important question. I will continue to argue that our culture of competition and our delusion of free will is the true opiate of the people, one that numbs us to human suffering and unnecessary inequities, and far too often oversells personal power while it blames the victims. If we can continue to feed ourselves laundry lists of reasons the “lazy” people—those dirt bags we see on TV in the food lines, the fat people, or the third-world crazies who just can’t manage a decent constitution because they’re too stupid—just don’t deserve our sympathy, then we can continue to tell ourselves it is their choice. We should lock them in prison, bomb them to oblivion, and wipe them off the pages of our newspapers. That seems easier than truly understanding the complex causes of why things are the way they are. After all, wouldn’t we really rather read entertainment “news,” and continue living in our mentally gated fantasy community, where we leave all the important concerns in the hands of the individual?

What might it do for us if we paused and realized the degree of suffering in the world? If we realized that many people work harder than I ever have, and are smarter than I’ll ever be, and die at young ages due to poor drinking water, or die of cancer, or have bad backs, or autism, or psychological illness? What if I realized I’m not “all that and a bag of chips”? What if I realized that hundreds of thousands of people never experience true love, suffer horrible and debilitating diseases, or they go uneducated or unfed because we buy into this nearly Karmic idea that they suffer because they deserve to suffer; they suffer because they did it wrong, and we prosper because we did it right? We rationalize that capitalism/freedom requires us to be able to choose incorrectly, and thus requires a large group of failures over which we need not bother or fret. “Just look away, there is nothing we can do, that’s how it has to be if we have freedom,” we tell ourselves.

Even Thomas Jefferson knew that his artistic and visionary platitude was false: all men and women aren’t really created equal. There is a broad and cruel spectrum of physical and cognitive ability built into the human condition, from those in a permanent vegetative state, to those with severe mental and emotional impairments, to those in the middle, to those Mensa members, geniuses and autistic savants. There are adults who can read and understand this post, and even more who cannot.

What’s in it for you

“But this deterministic worldview is empty, dark, and can lead you nowhere,” you might say in final protest. “So what’s the point? What good comes from making me feel out of control and sad?” This is an understandable concern, but here is the crux of these many pages: at least for me, determinism has brought a beautiful inner peace that I have a difficult time explaining. I will nonetheless briefly try.

Remember Ron, the fictional drug dealer from Part I? We all encounter Ron in the real world. Ron might have been on the playground with our kids; it might have been our child whom Ron kicked in the head to earn his status as an alpha. Or we might have been flipped off by Ron in traffic today. Or you might work with a Ron. Clearly there is no excusing Ron’s meanness. It is not okay. Still, when someone wrongs me I can only take responsibility for my own emotional response to that wrong; and for me, seeing the underlying causes (determinants) that got Ron to the point where he flipped me off, or attacked my kid, totally changes my emotional response. I understand. I can start to see the answer to the great question “why?”—and it makes so much sense. I can often completely skip the wasted energy of anger and hate.

So now I see death differently, I see life differently, and can better celebrate the non-cruel moments—with full knowledge that much of life is unfair, and that much of it is suffering. I don’t have to like Ron. I can even still advocate for removing him from society. But I can move beyond forgiveness by skipping hate altogether, and avoid the carrying of all that anger. I can see the horrifying and glorious symphony of cause and effect that more satisfyingly explains Ron—and the world; and it gives me a sense of connectedness to the universe, agency in it, and a greater sense of inner peace as a result. I hope that makes sense. We are not outside of cause-and-effect events; we are participants in them, even if our thoughts and actions are fully caused.

I’m convinced that whether pure determinism is true or not, I must dedicate my life to better understanding the “gifts” that nature, luck, and circumstances have given me—and thereby dedicate myself to treating the rest of humanity without harsh judgment, with an eye on figuring a way to reduce the suffering of others.

Once we admit that the world is governed by natural processes of cause and effect, and that even mental “choices” are heavily or totally influenced by brain chemistry, culture, education, and exposure to prior ideas and knowledge, we can then cease our habit of abdicating responsibility for the plight of others to some afterlife, or simply looking away because it is just some sad byproduct of “free will” or freedom.

It seems to me we are morally corrupt when we view the world that way, and when we arrogantly delude ourselves into buying that we all have equal opportunity. We don’t. We are not created equal, nor can we expect great things from people who are given no education, no family, no books, no love, no stimulation, and no way to meet even the most basic of Maslow’s needs. These causes that create the effects that are the lives of real people—are our failures, and they are nothing short of abhorrent abdications of our obligations to humanity. I for one am going to stop looking the other way, and I am going to abandon the rationalization of eugenics-like notions like “survival of the fittest,” fighting for market share, and competition—since they rob me of empathy and compassion. Won’t you join me?

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

Our Greatest Delusion: Free Will (Part I of II)

Buckle up for the greatest of potential blasphemies. Here in Part I of a two-part post, you’ll be introduced to the great unthinkable. In Part II we will get to the part you really care about—what the prospect of living a giant delusion means to you, and to our world. So let’s jump in. Surely if you’ve read the blog for a while now and haven’t been compelled to your keyboard in protest, this could be the post that does it.

What if I told you that even if you are not legally or physically compelled by gunpoint or government to act or think a certain way, you are nonetheless still not free to make your own decisions? That in reality there is no such thing as human “free will,” only the delusion of complete autonomy of thought and behavior? What if I further suggested you did not randomly choose to read this article, and that in reality you could not have made any other choice but to read it—given the very specific circumstances that existed when you were introduced to the existence of this post? Indeed my assertion is that causes led to the effect of you reading this now. You did not have a free choice, and couldn’t have chosen otherwise.

Or what if I told you that neither you nor any human is a self-made person, no matter how brilliant and inspirational the narrative about the kid who came from nothing and did it all by himself or herself. What if I challenged you that even the tiniest elements of your life were “fully caused”—that they didn’t come from nowhere and nothing, but rather were the result of natural cause-and-effect forces, and thus were “determined”? I’m about to do that, and much more. Hopefully whether you agree or disagree, you’ll discover something about the way you think, and about the arrogance that comes from wholesale purchase of this problematic notion we’ve been sold: that our decisions are fully ours, are totally uncaused except in our autonomous heads, and that they originate solely from the “nothingness” that is our “free will.” You guessed it. I believed this all my life, but alas it appears I’m wrong yet again, and that this is not how the world really works.

To get you fully primed and riled up, let me further assert for a moment that your successes, your failures, your sorrows, and your victories are far less “yours” than you can probably begin to fathom! To paraphrase Jack Nicholson’s character from the movie A Few Good Men—perhaps we can’t handle that truth; but that doesn’t make it untrue. If I get my way here, you’re about to see how your delusion of “free will” destroys compassion, kills empathy, rapes peace, obliterates love, bastardizes the golden rule, and basks in your arrogance and ego-feeding self affirmations. Should be fun, eh? (Just wait until Part II.)

For me this topic is perhaps the ultimate stop along my journey of big questions. It has been among the scariest, most outlandish, potentially offensive ideas I’ve explored, and flies in the face of the very foundational assumptions of our merit- and competition-driven Western society. To utter such questions about “free will” is probably a greater heresy than questioning the existence of the most sacred of gods. But even as painful as it has at times been for me to admit, the evidence seems clear: all human action is fully caused, and thus fully determined—not by a top-down designer, and not by a god who physically moves the tectonic plates to create the tsunami or the aneurism—but by a non-designed, non-planned chain of cause-and-effect events that traces its origins to the beginning of time itself.

Of course as with anything, I remain open to arguments and new information. This is but an unexpected, unsought, and provisional estimation of truth—but it has also become a warming, comforting, and liberating worldview for me. I will comment more on this in Part II. For now, I hope you’ll try to follow along and give it a fair hearing; it is a useful metaphor for learning, even if you can’t fully accept the argument.

A Thought Experiment

Imagine for a moment the face of a newborn baby: not just any baby, but you! At the moment of your birth, and even weeks before, you were the culmination of a nearly-infinite number of interacting physical variables: mitosis, cells, neurons, maternal nutrition, chromosomes, immunities, physical defects or lack thereof, brain function, and many more. You were born into poverty or affluence, theological beliefs or non-theism, support or neglect, wellness or sickness, war or peace, plague or global wellness, and myriad other circumstances that uniquely defined your world—the world—into which you were born. These circumstances would be more powerful than you ever imagined. They would set in motion the very nature and course of the only existence you would know. In fact, between your biology and the natural makeup of your body and mind, and the circumstances into which you were born, I will argue that there would be no additional inputs—no other influences to the course of your life. You were a natural person, born into a natural world. (Even if you disagree, work with me on this. I know you’re thinking there could be a supernatural cause that determines physical-world “effects,” but more on that later.)

Now imagine another child, this time a child born into abject poverty in urban America—in this case an African-American infant we’ll call Ronald, born in 1982 into the country where “all men are created equal,” and we delude ourselves with the notion that there is equal opportunity for all. Ron was born to a crack-addicted mother in Detroit, with a relatively high IQ of 123. He was born into a Christian household, but with very little education or guidance of any kind. Drugs were the norm and survival was the game in the culture into which Ronald was born—at a very low birth weight it is worth adding. And while the circumstances of this child’s birth might be very different from those of your own, with both birth stories—yours and Ron’s—a series of cause-and-effect events progressed forward from an infinitely complex chain of these prior, “background events”—events that entailed the variables we’ve mentioned, and trillions more. But the chain progressed exactly from those births to this moment in time, didn’t it? Just as a butterfly’s wings flapping in South America has been said to be capable of creating a hurricane on the other side of the earth, the tiniest of events change the course of history—as did you and Ron; cause-and-effect is a funny thing. You changed the world as you were shaped by it, as was Ron. But still, there is more to the story.

Ron was smart, as we’ve said. Ron figured out that when he cried loudly enough, someone would feed him. That was his brain working—quite rationally, actually, even though he didn’t really know he was doing it. But as he aged, he made many billions of decisions that brought him to precisely where he is today. He learned to manipulate his parents. As he grew to pre-adolescence, he learned how to get what he wanted from others too, by intimidating his peers—even kids twice his age. Ron watched the pimps and drug dealers in the neighborhood, and saw the nerds in school getting nowhere. Ron made some pretty wise decisions if you think objectively—like the one to deal drugs. Ron got pretty rich. Ron prayed to his God, and Ron followed social norms and rules of conduct that applied to his world, not some “Leave it to Beaver” fantasy of another time and place. All-in-all, given his biology, his brain, the events and circumstances of every second of every minute of his life, Ron made very “wise” and predictable decisions at every step—at least to Ron’s mind.

Could It Have Happened Differently?

But let me push you a bit further. If we view Ron’s life—even from before birth—as series of decisions made by his cells, and then his larger brain, we see something interesting. Picture for a moment a snapshot of Ron at the point of any decision in his existence, no matter how momentous or how insignificant. You might picture his decision to cry or not to cry in order to get attention or get food; his decision to first smoke that crack pipe; or his decision to kick his neighborhood friend in the face—an act that established him soundly as the alpha in his peer group. As you envision a particular snapshot, understand how infinitely complex were the factors that led Ron to act or “choose” as he did at that split second in time: his biology, the amount of testosterone in his blood, the color of the paint on the walls, his hunger, his fear, his entire brain condition and chemistry, the weather, his genes, and so forth. Billions of variables existed in a very, very specific state at that snapshot in time.

Here is the essential argument: given all of those specific circumstances that comprise the picture at this single decision point in Ron’s life, there is essentially a ZERO probability that Ron’s “decision” to think or act as he did could have been made contrary to the way Ron made it. That “decision” was the culmination of an extremely complex chain of cause-and-effect events—all very “of this earth”—that led to Ron’s behavior and decision. Ron’s actions, in other words, were determined by myriad and complex causes. They were not uncaused. Ron did not, therefore, have the ability to “choose” in any conventional sense of the word—as we delude ourselves into believing he did. And here is the shocker: neither do you!

A “free will” worldview tells us that Ron has made a set of poor decisions. Ron is a loser. Ron deserves everything he’s getting in life. He may even deserve to die, versus the cost of housing Ron in prison and protecting us from him. But what if, in reality, Ron made the perfect set of “decisions” for Ron’s brain, given the circumstances into which he existed from before his birth, until this very day? What if looking back there was, in practice, no real alternative to how Ron’s body and brain could have interacted with his environment at any of the trillions of decision points that led from one to the other through the complex decision tree of his life?

But are we gods?

If you are like most, you are already coming out of your chair in protest. “We do have free will,” you want to scream. I know, I know; and I’ve been there. But as you ponder things further you’ll see it’s difficult to escape cause-and-effect, and indeed this philosophical debate has raged for over 2,000 years, so try to hang in there.

If in fact we can make uncaused decisions, as you might suggest, where do they come from? If we could defy our life experience, our specific biology at the time of decision, our training, our culture, our mental state, our heritage, defy everything we ARE and everything we know, and every biochemical signal at the time of a decision, at the risk of a false dichotomy it seems only one of two things can allow that: one, we behave randomly; or two, we are essentially our own “god” and exist outside of nature and all known reality, and we can overcome it in some magical way.

But clearly we do not behave randomly, as if there were no causes or reasons behind every one of our actions—no matter how wacky any single action may seem. If that were true, then there would be no predictability to anything you or I do. I might be carving pumpkins one minute, axe-murdering the next, singing lullabies the next, ad infinitum. But we are predictable, and we do not randomly make uncaused choices (again, “caused” being complex interactions of biochemistry, memory, experience, new stimulus, etc.).

But are we gods? Can we truly just change our minds, in an uncaused way, or behave contrary to all those things that define us in that snapshot of a decision? Clearly to do so requires a supernatural element or ability. It requires that we overcome nature itself, or have a non-natural input somehow cause us to behave outside all earthly causes and constraints. But both of these options put us on a supernatural level. If you argue a “non-natural” input that is an external deity—a god—in that case we are still not in control; we are mere puppets, determined by God. And if it is not an external supernatural god, then it is we who are the supernatural, magic-wielding gods, is it not? ([note added 11/3, 10:52 a.m.--there was a somewhat snide, passing Calvin reference here with a question mark indicating my lack of knowledge but suggesting Calvinist predetermination asserts that all things are predetermined, which is not what Calvinism teaches; I stand corrected. Indeed most Christians believe some things are determined by god but not others--a problematic assertion of "partial determinism" that we'll cover later]).

So these are the two main choices: a supernatural god who leads us in a world without free will; or it is we who are supernatural gods, capable of operating outside all cause-and-effect. Of these, only the latter leaves us in with free will, but it’s a pretty vacuous explanation—that we are gods who magically transcend all laws of nature. Not very satisfying, eh.

For me, even though science cannot today—and may never be able to—identify all these natural elements of any given decision, the natural solution that all behaviors and thoughts are the effect of causes, makes the most sense of all to me. If this reasoning holds (and I am open to being wrong—though right for the wrong reasons would be preferable:-), the personal problem for us then becomes how we can accept this  deterministic reality, and why it might change everything about how we live, love, learn, and even govern our society.

One quick additional note: Many try to use quantum mechanics to argue against determinism, quite unsuccessfully from what I can tell. Unfortunately for them, it seems even quantum mechanics favors either a determined universe or a random one, but certainly not a partially determined universe where we control “some” things, but not all. If new understandings of the quantum world hold consistent, it still does not bode well for free will and the notion that we can initiate uncaused effects with our supernatural minds (otherwise known as contra-causal free will).

For now I will leave you with this. Whether you buy this determinism philosophy or not, modern science is showing that we are far less “self made” than we would think. Psychologists like John John Bargh are studying situational causes of psychological phenomena, and finding we have very little choice in how we react to many situations (see his book “Social Psychology and the Unconscious: The Automaticity of Higher Mental Processes”. It appears we are programmed by nature, quite literally, and decisions we make can often not be made otherwise under our biological, cultural, and environmental constraints.

In Part II of this post, we will move on to the meatier and more entertaining questions of what this argument means to you—and to our understanding of how the world works. I hope you will then see that whether you ultimately agree or disagree that we are fully determined—as the effects of causes—we can all do better when it comes to expressing compassion and understanding for those who have made some “bad choices” in their lives. Unfortunately for us, the unanticipated consequences of our compassionate understanding may be a need to rethink our worship at the alter of competition, and a new understanding of what ”survival of the fittest” really means to nature.

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

It’s Only Funny Until Your Rights are Trampled

Picture this: You live in white bread suburbia in Western Michigan; yours is a Christian family; a majority of local families comprise your local Reformed Church of America congregation; you consider yourself highly dedicated to the teachings of your “mega church”; and you are raising your kids to both live and spread the word of Jesus. Now picture your reaction as your teenager comes home from high school with stories of a school employee who—while on the job—is routinely trying to sell your child on Islam. Your student reports that on this day the lunchroom employee came very close to bullying him over his failure to attend an Islamic youth event he had previously agreed to attend. Your son was confronted by the employee who demanded payment for non-attendance at the Mosque event, and that employee was joined in his plea by the assistant principal—who is also a Muslim, and who echoed the disappointment in your son’s non-appearance during a private, coercive, two-on-one meeting in a closed room.

Now picture another scenario: You, the parent from above, appeared earlier that day for your annual dental visit. When you arrived in the relaxing and well-appointed waiting room, you were greeted by the usual Crescent Moon symbols, and you heard soft, morning prayer music proclaiming “I bear witness that there is no God except Allah,” among other traditional phrases. The pleasant and genuine staff greeted you, and you warmly returned the well-wishes and proceeded into the exam room to have your teeth cleaned. Between the signage and continuous Islamic-themed serenades, the hygienist worked in at least a couple of the expected references to the beauty and peace you could know through Islam, but you smiled politely with full knowledge that she means well, despite her knowledge that you are Christian.

One more scenario: To minimize time off work, you had also scheduled an appointment with your favorite ophthalmologist for later that morning. The Islamic-themed ambiance was more subdued there; nonetheless as you took your seat in the exam room, where the doctor inquired about the current state of your vision. “Hello my friend. So let me ask you, have you had any difficulties at all with your eyes … say, any troubles reading even the fine print of your Koran?”

And the greatest among these is?

So how would each of these events make you feel? If you happen to hold the beliefs of the majority, what would it be like to be the minority in your community, culturally speaking? And which of these three scenarios is more troubling to you? For me, there is one clear answer.

Let’s work backwards and make a couple of observations about the latter two scenarios, where you are patronizing private businesses whose owners are of an Islamic worldview. Regardless of whether you and your fellow Christians are in the majority or in the minority, there seems to me to be no legal, moral, or ethical problem with either of these scenarios—so long as no persecution, bigotry, or coercion is involved. Proprietors are free to proselytize and live their faith however they want, right? If we didn’t like it, we could choose another dentist, or chose another ophthalmologist.  What if it were a Muslim neighborhood and there was no alternative? Well, I suppose these are still just market forces at play, and we’d have to live with it or move elsewhere. Fair enough.

Now that being said, there is still value in pondering what it would be like to live as a minority in your local culture. While I made these quasi-fictional merchants Muslim, these two experiences are quite real and fairly emblematic for me in West Michigan; but as a non-believing minority, I experience them with Christian service providers, not Muslim providers. Truly I continue to love and appreciate these people, and harbor no ill-will toward them. (I also recognize that if I wanted to change providers, I might well wind up in the same boat anyway since they are a majority—but perhaps not.) Anyway, it’s all fine with me, though I must confess that I occasionally bristle at the constant reminders of my minority status—in terms of religion and worldview.

But let’s move back to the first scenario, the one with the high-school student; things get a little bit trickier there. How do you feel about this intervention into your family’s private religious beliefs by a government employee? And if it was condoned and supported by the assistant principal, and appeared common or systematic? The truth is that a very similar event happened recently at Michigan school near where I live, only with Christian proselytizing rather than Islamic.

From my perspective as a school board president for our local public school district, there is little doubt that had this scenario played out in our school district, but with two Muslim staff members, the mobs would quickly descend upon our board meetings and administration with a vengeance. Frankly, I’d be crying foul too, and I’d like to share why.

The most fertile ground for religion is freedom thereof

When our founding fathers escaped the crown and escaped religious dogma, they were an eclectic bunch. They were mostly Christian, of course, but some very prominent thinkers—like Ben Franklin, George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Payne, Ethan Allen, and others—were probably “deists” or “skeptics” by today’s standards, and certainly would not be considered Christians by most modern definitions. But to digress into this, or even the Treaty of Tripoli—wherein the Senate ratified and John Adams agreed via signature that “… the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion”—is to miss the point. It is equally not the point that the Supreme Court has only allowed un-branded, non-specific, deistic or obtuse references to “god” on money, because the meaning of the general term “god” has been “lost through rote repetition any significant religious content.”

But what cannot be missed, and should not be missed, is that the founding fathers debated the separation of church and state explicitly, hotly, and at length. What they came up with was a constitution that protected the people from any government involvement in establishing or promoting one belief over another, or any belief even over a worldview of non-belief, or the “atheistic” deism of the day (a non-personal god who started things, but is not active in the world’s operation any longer). The constitution is a secular document that defines and sets forth an explicitly secular government, not just for the obvious reasons of escaping potential tyranny, but to protect religion.

And the result of this explicit decision by the framers of our government? According to the Journal of Religion & Society, among other sources, the United States remains the most religious industrialized nation on the face of the earth. As pastor Greg Boyd argued in “Myth of a Christian Nation,” and as pastors, rabbis, and clergy like Rev. Dr. Welton Gaddy of the Interfaith Alliance have long argued as well, be very careful in wishing for more religion in government, because you never know what religion it may eventually espouse (or which version of the 33,000 distinct Christianities).

In the twinkling of an eye, it could happen to you

In the first example, where a government employee uses what should be the religion-free safety zone of public education to evangelize and persuade children toward his/her religion, this is a blatant violation of the letter and spirit of the first amendment, and of the very ideas that make this the most fertile land in the world for those who wish to practice and preach their religions as they see fit. Those in the second and third scenarios above, the merchants and individuals expressing their views freely, are enjoying the very fruits of that freedom.

Great constitutional minds envisioned intellectual freedom that would allow believers and nonbelievers alike to flourish in peace, and codified that vision in a constitution after much debate, saying “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion.” They recognized that such a limit on government would not only be a humane, modern, and an enlightened way to think, but it would protect religion and serve the greater good.

So wherever a government employee or institution tries to promote (i.e. establish) ANY religion as preferential over another religion, or over no religion, I have said it before and I will say it again: I will rise to protest the assault on the constitution. If your rights to access and practice your religion are so encroached upon or infringed upon by our government, I will loudly and forcefully stand by your side to object.

Yes, it may seem quaint or funny to some people when the ACLU protests a lunchroom teacher who promotes a religious view, when that view is the one you hold as the majority; but these are rights the framers applied to every single person, not rights that are limited only to a majority. Surely it would cease to be humorous if someday your majority beliefs fell to minority status—perhaps through immigration—and my Islamic lunch-time scenario actually played out. So won’t you join me and stand side-by-side with me in protest whenever my first amendment rights—or those of any US citizen—come under attack?

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

I Have a Radical Dream: A World Without Jealousy

I have a dream of a world without green monsters—a world free of jealousy. It is perhaps the loftiest of all possible dreams, as increasingly I’ve come to see jealousy as innately human, and yet deeply connected to the dark, egocentric side of human nature that people like Bishop John Shelby Spong or Christian thinker M. Scott Peck call “evil.” Further still, I assert that while part of our nature—and therefore one about which there should never be embarrassment or guilt—jealousy is perhaps our greatest barrier to living fully, loving wastefully, and finding deep and profound fulfillment and spiritual wholeness, regardless of our particular belief system or religion. Indeed it seems a reasonable goal for anyone wishing to love more purely and attain the highest levels of human existence, is to master jealousy—however impossible that may be.

Webster says jealousy is intolerance of rivalry, hostility toward a rival, or one believed to enjoy advantage or vigilance in guarding a possession. So what’s wrong with guarding a possession? Well, nothing if that means you have property rights. The great evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins explains jealousy’s probable historical purpose: “From a Darwinian perspective, sexual jealousy is easily understood. Natural selection of our wild ancestors plausibly favored males who guarded their mates for fear of squandering economic resources on other men’s children.” It is also worth noting Dawkins has railed at the lunacy of what he calls society’s approval of the “deep rightness and appropriateness of sexual jealousy.” More on that at the end.

So I have a dream, where scarcity is recognized as a substantially self-imposed rat-race, and I have a dream of a world where there are no perceived “rivals,” per webster’s definition. A rival in today’s world of abundance is usually just a matter of how we view that person, isn’t it? Isn’t there enough for everyone today? Since we’re dreaming a utopian dream, lets envision a world were abundance allows us to move past competition and toward loving cooperation, where people are not to be conquered, but seen as what they are: the “Greatest Resources”—in the words of economist Julian Simon. We no longer have to bang each other over the head and steal cattle or wives (or shouldn’t have to); cooperation is our future.

Most of us realize that even guarding our material possessions with too much zeal, or defining our existence by way of things, or worship of things, is to miss the very essence of what it means to live fully, love, and add meaning to our existence through our experience of connectedness with others; unfortunately worship of things puts things on a higher plane than humanity.

But far beyond these concerns over our obsession with—in the words George Carlin’s hilarious comedy routine, our “stuff”—the question we must ask is “what is the possession” that we are seeking to protect from our “rivals”? Can that be another person? “Of course not,” we answer quickly with our modern mind. “You can’t own people. That’s slavery.” But the truth is that we do think we can own other human beings. Despite the zero-sum game articulated by modern preachers of the prosperity gospel, true enlightenment comes in caring, teamwork, and cooperation; in the modern world that is how magic happens. But contrary to Jesus, and even the great management guru Ed Deming, we live in a world that basks in combat and competition, and seeks to tear down cooperation at every turn.

We Westerners are selfish. Our egos get out of hand, and when we get jealous and see rivals where there are none, we violate the very spirit and definitions of what it means to love, which in its purest forms looks not inwardly, but is an external selflessness that centers on the wellbeing and needs of others.

Non-jealous Parental Love

Here is an example. Healthy and centered parents, I would argue, want great things for their kids. They even wish for their kids to grow sufficiently far in life—in success, in love, in happiness—that they transcend their parents! I know I want my son and daughter to be more knowledgeable than I, to live life more fully, to find abundant love and respect, and certainly to find material things to the extent their needs are securely met and they are able explore all the world has to offer them—and discover what they have to offer the world in return.

Never would I wish for my children that only their mother and I provide for them all they need to meet their needs for life. We wouldn’t teach “you can only love us,” from an early age. Only a twisted and sick parent would say to their child that the he or she could only receive hugs from the parent, that they should never marry or leave the parent, or have human needs met from anyone other than the parent. That would be crazy; we want them to recognize the variety of resources for recognition, knowledge, growth, giving, sharing, receiving and loving. In short, we wish for our kids to experience life—and love—in a way that transcends what we had, and even what we can give them as a parent. We want them to be more fully human, to be better humans, to contribute more to the world, and to be more successful beings than we are—however we define that. We want more for our kids.

Now, of course some people don’t think that way; some even view the children as rivals and competitors. Ruby Payne has written extensively on the “Culture of Poverty,” and one hallmark characteristic that contributes to the cycle of poverty is the attitude of parents in this culture of poverty: they often do not wish for their children to surpass them—in education or life. That threatens the family unit, it threatens the fabric of the culture, and it threatens the parents. It is thus often culturally un-cool to be smart or educated in disadvantaged socioeconomic classes. Apart from the “sickness” of such misological and unenlightened parenting philosophies, hostility toward perceived “rivals” whom we see as “taking things” from us (in that case schools and knowledge are the rivals), has direct application to other kinds of relationships.

Jealousy and Marriage

Very unlike a healthy parent who wishes for good things for his/her child, somehow we no longer exhibit such selfless and pure love when the perceived “property” is a person with whom we have a romantic, or intimate relationship. Have you ever pondered that? We still cling to the old ideas of property, and many women still love to have a man fight for her as if the man is defending property. This is sick and backward thinking; we see rivals where we could see opportunity. We selfishly don’t want our spouses to have needs met outside of our own love. We don’t want them to receive love and affirmation elsewhere. We fear loss of our property. We don’t want them to grow to career success beyond our own (we’ve probably all seen marriages that were threatened by the success of one, particularly if they work in the same field).

Much as the biblical history of adultery is centered upon the woman as chattel—akin to your ox, ass, or any other piece of property—so too is romantic jealousy based upon the view of ownership, even if only to the extent we believe we have an exclusive contractual right to ones interests, thoughts, affections, and attention. Plain and simple, this is shallow and selfish thinking. We even make contracts (marriage) from which there should ideally be no extrication from this often dark and selfish agreement. How is that selfless love at it’s finest?

A Utopian Dream

So I have a dream. It is a lofty, idealistic, and unrealistic one, and no doubt one I can’t probably achieve either. But, here it is:

I have a dream that someday all of humanity will not need to fear for our basic needs, and through the removal of fear and insecurity, we will put the concern of others ahead of our own. We will not pledge at age 21 to never love another person romantically (unless parted by death), as we will not fear the loss of one person by befriending another; there will be no perception of “rivals,” only former rivals to whom we offer more love, and wish well upon. So instead of marriage being selfishly protective of human property, we will pledge to put the needs the people we care for ahead of our own, with no need to protect it from fictitious or imagined rivals. We will celebrate for our loved ones when they find someone who is truly providing them even more selfless love than we could alone. We will recognize that in our now-approaching eighty years of life expectancy, there will be phases and stages in life; and we will further recognize that there may be people who can more perfectly love us and accept our love at certain times and stages of life, than at others.

What we can give and what we are able to receive may vary dramatically between child-rearing phases of life, and say the retirement ages, and in my dream we will understand that. We will recognize that I may be the absolute best fit for you in one phase, but perhaps your needs for intellectual challenges or physical activities will mean that at other phases I will not be able to meet all of your needs (e.g. I cannot be your ski buddy because of my bad knees). But I will celebrate for you the blessings of those who can meet those needs for you, and I will be cheering you on. Even if that means you cannot accept as much of my love in that phase—or even that you move on completely—I will still be loving you, as true love does not end; in fact, I will in my heart be loving the person who is constructively, selflessly, and caringly meeting your needs. How could I not? That person is loving you genuinely and selflessly, and I love you, so I must love that they wish to feed you spiritually as well.

I have a dream where our children are safe from the violence and petty squabbles over the reprehensible idea that we can own exclusive rights to someone’s humanness, their love, or supply their every need. How many divorces, how much pain, how much alcoholism, how much suffering might be ameliorated? I have a dream where we are free to have deep and meaningful relationships with people of the opposite sex, because there are no arbitrary boundaries of social propriety, and there is no jealousy. I am free to talk long walks with a friend who happens to be a woman, to have her call upon me at any hour, or have a shoulder to cry on as I would of any friend. This jealousy-free world affords that.

I have a dream where children learn not how to enrich themselves first, but how to care for others with emotional intelligence. In that dream, the fear of loss is not the driving force—the child has no fear and knows that caring is abundant; they are assured they will always be cared for. As we grow older, we even know that the more we love something, the more we set it free; if the relationship is genuine and synergistic, that thing comes back. But even if it does not come back, we love that person still; and by giving selflessly, we know that simultaneously someone or something somewhere else is also free to care for us or meet our needs, because everyone loves selflessly in this caring world.

I have a dream where life-long commitments and commitments to child-rearing are real and lasting. This is not a world where we make impossible and impractical predictions of the future—or pledge to withhold love from others due to unrealistic marriage pledges and jealousy—but where we love unconditionally, so that love never ends! True love transcends the ebb and flow of differing needs and different seasons of life, because we givers of love are still giving—cheering for our loved ones, helping them, and if possible still supplementing the new love our beloved is receiving in the languages and ways they find most helpful and appropriate for that phase of their life. In this dream, true love knows no artificial constraints, and yet is permanent.

I have a dream where our successes are celebrated genuinely by those who love us, not tepidly because of underlying envy. In this dream class warfare does not exist because the poor are happy for the fortunate, and the fortunate give to the poor.

I have a dream of a world where when I falter or am in need, someone is there to help educate me on how I could have done something differently, or better, and that this assistance comes without anger or judgment, but with love. In this world of no jealousy, it is easy to set ego aside and gain knowledge.

I have a dream for a better understanding of the most fundamental principals of Christianity. In this dream we understand the Jewish apocalyptic setting in which the Christ story takes place—wherein “this age” of suffering was so inconceivably painful that surely an anointed king was going to be selected by god to come and usher in a “new age,” imminently; god would then turn the world upside down so that the kingdom of heaven would come to everyday life here on earth. There would be no more pain, and no more jealousy in this vision. All the demonic forces of power and corruption, hoarding, and tribal rivalry would be extinguished, and the poor would inherit the earth—led perhaps even by a simple carpenter. I dream of a day where these vital concepts are no longer lost amidst a literalistic approach to Christianity, a world where we see the beauty of this vision, and we hear the metaphorical call of the mythical Christ figure to help us cast off the burden and the idols, and George Carlin’s “stuff,” and instead see humanity as the greatest path to our actualization and depth of experience.

While historical understandings make clear that those “predictions” of apocalyptic Jews were in fact merely a phase in the evolution of a Western god-zeitgeist, and their thinking would later usher in even newer god-definitions (which later became today’s “orthodoxy”)—we can still share the dream of a world without jealousy. And as the Gnostics and Christians and Buddhists teach us, that begins by looking inward.

An Impossible Dream?

Of course I mentioned at the outset that this is indeed a utopian dream and it is an impossible one to attain. Others do NOT have our best interest in mind, they don’t love us, and therefore it’s a classic stalemate akin to the Cold War. There is no trust, we see rivals everywhere, and thus feel we must protect our “stuff,” and our “love slaves,” and defend against everything and everyone. Even where there is trust, our religion of competition means we create friendly rivalries—as in business. The result is lose/lose for relationships. It appears we cannot move forward. Dawkins is right: it is human nature; and society celebrates that nature by celebrating sexual jealousy, encouraging men to go defend “their” women, or women their men. Society even celebrates marriage as a prohibition AGAINST loving interactions (with members of the opposite sex). Heaven forbid society allow me to have dinner, or share, or talk—or even be best friends with a woman, if all affected parties agree without stress or duress. What a pity.

But why can’t we grow beyond our nature? Isn’t that the very truth hiding behind the window dressing and mythology of most religion? We can do better. We do so daily as we defy our nature and aspire to overcome our out-dated, evolution-driven tendencies in virtually every other aspect of our existence, so why not work on this one? Why not cooperate rather than compete?

There are substantial benefits to beginning to think this way, even if the world does not follow. Isn’t that what religion, and ideals of spiritual growth are about? Becoming as Christ- or Buddha-like as possible? As fully human, as loving, and as selfless as possible? I’m strongly inclined that this is the case. I’m convinced that the more selfless, the more loving, the more giving of ourselves we can become, the closer we can get to our own, real, earthly, sustainable Nirvana, or Heaven-on-earth, or sense of meaning and purpose. We get what we want not through wishing and wanting for ourselves all day, but by transcending ourselves. We can cure that existential hangover in a way that church-hopping among literalist sects cannot.

So it seems that this dream can begin to become a reality only when we help others grow and succeed—even beyond ourselves, and when we grow beyond ourselves as well. That’s a tall order, and I may never make it, but I hope to die trying. Care to join me?

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

When were you last loved?

Okay, so the sappy skeptic has gone of the deep end in his exploration of what it means to live a “naturalist,” truth-driven existence, in a world otherwise full of supernaturalism, magic, superstition, and downright woo-woo wackiness. You’ll see why as we explore today’s topic: When was the last time you were really loved?

This is not intended to be a sexual question, though it could be; in Seinfeldian terms, “not that there’s anything wrong with that.” But I could just as easily have asked the question “When was the last time you were made love to?” and still intended it in a completely non-sexual fashion. Yup, time to explain. As usual, I’ll do so with a personal anecdote.

In recent years, I had the opportunity to participate in two experiential learning seminars called Challenge Day, which were conducted in the public education setting to reduce bullying and improve empathetic understanding. Without getting into a lengthy description of the process, suffice to say that the professionals who orchestrate these experiences are amazing, as is the structure of the day. As featured on Oprah and in other national media, this experience for many young people constitutes their first real introduction to consciousness-raising, empathy-creating awareness—and to experiencing what it is like to walk in the pain- and trauma-scarred moccasins of their peers. By design, the day progresses from simple instructional games, to a higher understanding and empathetic response to what participants are witnessing; even the most frozen of hearts cannot deny the insights and emotion that are ultimately elicited. For example, I often return to those experiences when someone gives me the one-finger salute while driving “too slowly,” or lashes out on the phone at me for absolutely no reason; the fact is we just never know what horrors and challenges someone is enduring that might be motivating their outbursts. It doesn’t excuse them, but it surely can help us control our own reactions and mental health, and maybe theirs when we show some sympathy or compassion.

But of all the fun, games, and yes, emotion-laden activities through which the Challenge Day facilitators led us, one has re-emerged and resonated in my mind many times. Ironically, for me it involved one of the exercises in which I was paired with another adult volunteer, a younger woman perhaps in her early or mid twenties.

As adult facilitators, one of our roles was to participate in the fast-paced activities that are designed to mix the students throughout the day. Kids who would never be face-to-face with other races, socioeconomic groups, or cliques, from the first moments are sharing and learning about what it is like to be those other people. In this case, however, all the others paired off and this young adult and I were left to work together. What happened, obviously, was memorable.

While I had gained a few nuggets of insight into this young woman through the small group activities, and she about me, I really did not know her; nonetheless we followed the instructions along with the rest of the pairs. We were to arrange our chairs so that we were knee-to-knee, sit quietly—with absolutely no conversation or verbal communication, and simply look into one another’s eyes and “be present” for each other. Say what? You heard me, for three minutes, we were to just lock eyes with a relative stranger, accept them, say nothing, and absorb a few minutes of supportive connectedness.

Believe me, this sounds strange, and it did to me as well; perhaps that’s why the experience has returned to conscious thought so many times for me. For the young woman with whom I was sitting, the experience became emotional. I do not know what was in her mind when we began. I do not know her history, though I suspect this was an upper-middle class young woman from a good and loving home—who like all of us had some hidden scars from life. But as we sat without words, just absorbing one another’s gaze and feeling a sense of safety, caring, and attentiveness, I saw a glassy look come to her eyes.

I could see her own shock as tears welled up in her piercing blue eyes. She tried briefly to squelch the expression, but was not successful. Of course being the sap I am, and starting to feel her surprise at the power of the caring attention, my eyes started to well up as well; I swear I could sense exactly what she was thinking.

This is only my speculation, but I’m pretty confident. She was feeling a strong emotional reaction to the fact that it had been months—or who knows, possibly years—since anyone sat quietly, absorbed her and cared for her, and looked her directly in the eyes! No one was challenging her. No one was trying to change her. No one was asking anything of her. No one was trying to make out with her. Someone was “listening to her,” accepting her, and caring for her. To heck with sex, THIS was intimacy—and it was most assuredly unexpected to both of us.

Now, as a skeptic, I will agree that this could be written off as the simple effect of an emotionally-charged environment (which is true, and is part of how the walls are broken down to clear the way toward empathetic understanding); but I think it would be a mistake to do dismiss it that way. As I have argued extensively through my blog and novel, diminishing human emotion has never been a reasonable goal of skepticism. The essence of what it means to be human is captured in words like “love,” “intimacy,” and “emotion.” Without these things we are but Vulcans or computers, are we not? So let’s explore our humanity further.

When was the last time you were made love to?

Think for a moment of a person who means a great deal to you—perhaps a spouse. When is the last time you genuinely locked eyes with him or her, or sat quietly eye-to-eye and simply connected? When did you last let them know that—in your eyes—they are worthy of your admiration and respect—whether you did so with or without words? Can such an exchange ever happen too often? How long has it been since you’ve been loved in this powerfully human way?

I doubt I’ll ever forget that young woman’s eyes. We literally said nothing! At the same time we exchanged a great deal of information! Anguish and disappointment no doubt arose from months or years past; evident was that emptiness that comes from merely going through the motions of life, as was a stark awareness of what was missing in her world. The extremely warm embrace afterward was further affirmation that we both understood and knew what had been exchanged; we both appreciated it, and had shared a human connection that, silly as this may sound, nobody could take away from us—and maybe nobody could understand it (including you). But we both knew it. It fed her, and in that process I was fed as well.

Now jump ahead several years to my journey of inquiry into the biggest questions in life. Jump ahead to book tours for A Secret of the Universe (a skeptical novel, but one that underscores the human “secret” of the power of love), and many podcast interviews and deep conversations over a beer or three. My hypothesis is that in this world, so very, very many people are lonely, and their souls are not fed. No one looks in their eyes and tells them it’s okay—or better, that they are okay. It’s overly simple, but sometimes I think almost all assholedness is the result of someone not being loved enough—be it currently, or at some point prior in their life. We run hard, work long hours, strive for some religion of perfection and productivity, and suffer an existential hangover that we just can’t seem to resolve. Our hearts are hungry. We tussle over daily schedules, kids’ events, making ends meet, and working eighty hours; what we don’t do is let people know they are worthwhile, and loved, just for being who they are. Just think how much better the world would be if everyone had that opportunity to hear such things, and to give such things!

In recent years, I have been incredibly blessed to have added to my life some of the types of real, deep friendships that I’d gone literally decades of my life without being able to add. I have felt that acceptance, and even experienced a very few, rare moments of genuine connectedness—even eye-gazing—in quiet understanding after a meaningful sharing. It’s a unique feeling, a wordless means of exchanging gifts. It’s saying “thank you for the gift; I get it. I accept it.” To this day, those are among the human experiences I value most—perhaps just behind those including my wife and family. “What a gift” is the phrase that always runs through my mind when I remember some of these interactions, and the kindness and love they have allowed me.

Yeah, but was she hot? 

Now lest we leave it there, and violate my prohibition against brevity (why stop at 1,100 words when 1,500 are available?), you may be asking the question that nobody would ever dare ask—and that only I would dare wrestle with proactively and provocatively. (Yes, we westerners tend to repress thoughts, but I find my journey through life is so much more authentic, interesting, and productive when I follow the rabbits down the rabbit holes.) The question you might ask, is, “Were these women or men?” Of course the real question you ask is, “Is there a sexual element to such intimacy?”

As always, I will be extremely honest. The experiences that come to mind most dramatically and readily—like the one expressed herein—have been with females (of course this and nearly all in my adult life were still not sexual). But that said, I can think of deep, loving exchanges that—while probably including more verbal content—were certainly powerful exchanges of depth, trust, love, and admiration among male friends; yes, even a few including a shared tear or two. So what about those situations, how about the second part of the question? Well, I think it is also a highly qualified “yes, there is a sexual element to all intimacy.”

Now, I feel compelled to qualify that answer and disclose that I have not ever been consciously attracted to men in a sexual way. I’m not one who happens even to be curious, though I am not at all bothered that many are. I think on the Kinsey scale—which purports to place everyone along a continuum between purely heterosexual and exclusively homosexual, I am clearly at the hetero end of the spectrum. Heterosexuality is as engrained in me as being purely homosexual is for many homosexuals. But that said I will cite two sources for my answer that intimacy IS tied to sexuality. One is a mega-church pastor, and the others are co-authors of books on sex and relationships.

We are sexual beings, says mega-church pastor Rob Bell, who authored “Sex God.” He says music connects with us on a sexual level, for example, that memories and even keepsakes are often related to things sexual or to relationships with sexual components, and that it can be impossible to distance ourselves from that part of our being. He says, “If we take this understanding of our natural state seriously, we have to rethink what sexuality is … Our sexuality is all of the ways we strive to reconnect with our world, with each other, and with God.” Sexuality is intertwined with being. Bell recounts a celibate friend who nonetheless remains “sexual” through his “energies for connection.” Perhaps this is merely an exercise in changing definitions, but essentially he argues that sexuality and genuine connectedness are somewhat of the same substance (my words). Conversely, he says, one can have meaningless muscle spasms via orgasm, yet not be capable of—or understand—real human connection; doing so would not fit his definition of “real” sex.

While I’m confident I am less judgmental of mere orgasm than Bell, so long as it is consensual and additive or complementary to the human experience, Bell is clearly on to something, even though he and I would part ways on just about every other aspect of what Christianity has done to, in my opinion, destroy and denigrate the beauty of sexuality—despite the fact it is part of the fabric of human interconnectedness and love. (For a much deeper and less misleadingly “not-about-sex” book on Biblical views of human sexuality, read Bishop John Shelby Spong’s thorough examination, “Living in Sin?: A Bishop Rethinks Human Sexuality.”)

As for Dossie Easton (Therapist) and Janet Hardy, the co-authors of “The Ethical Slut: A Practical Guide to Polyamory, Open Relationships, and Other Adventures,” these two women take a rather different approach, but share the conclusion about sex being almost inseparable from intimacy. They say, “We have found that the more we learn about sex, the less we know about how to define it, so now we just say the truth as we know it: sex is part of everything … .” Almost like Bell, they point out that “We have had long, intense, intimate conversations that felt deeply sexual to us. And we have had intercourse that didn’t feely terribly sexual. Our best definition here is that sex is whatever the people engaging in it think it is.”

In short, I don’t mean to confuse you or myself, but I can’t suggest that intimacy and genuine loving connections—whether opposite sex or otherwise—are asexual at all. They might be non-sexual, or might be sexual, but I’ll argue that true and genuine interconnectedness cannot be anti-sexual or stand in denial of that portion of our fabric.

This relevant rabbit hole notwithstanding, few of us are loved too much by the ones who most care about us. Perhaps you can end this day with a warm embrace, or even an eye-to-eye expression that tells someone how much you value them—regardless of what they did or did not accomplish or do today. And maybe, just maybe, as time goes by you will be as lucky as I have been, to find a family and friends who make you feel loved without condition, and fill your soul on a regular basis.

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

Book Review–Bishop John Shelby Spong’s “Eternal Life: A New Vision”

If you enjoy wrestling with the big questions in life, and recognize the value of wisdom and experience—especially when coupled with sixty years of scholarly study of theology and philosophy, diligent pursuit of ever-elusive truth through reason; intellectual honesty; insatiable curiosity; and an astute mind and loving heart—then you owe it to yourself to read Eternal Life: A New Vision, the culmination of Bishop John Shelby Spong’s seventy-nine-year journey of inquiry. Eternal Life goes beyond religion, beyond heaven and hell, and explores a very different interpretation of the Christian story and history, and what that Christian “experience” can mean to a modern mind—specifically in terms of life, death, and life after death.

This latest—and last—book by Bishop John Shelby Spong is difficult to review in some ways; it is not easily characterized by simple technical questions about scripture or Biblical interpretation. Rather, Eternal Life covers the biggest and toughest of questions.

A few relevant disclaimers: 1) This reviewer is a non-theist, and no longer believes in god. 2) Many skeptics and non-believers break ranks with Spong insofar as he persists in using “God language” like “salvation,” “eternal,” and “redemption”. Such breaks are evidenced by the Bishop’s participation in some formal debates with atheists. Still, it seems that if we discard our symbols and metaphors we might arguably just as well discard all attempts at articulating the human experience—including art, myth, literature, and all of language. As Spong frequently points out, language is but symbol. It is therefore worth pointing out that the naturalist, skeptical, and materialist reader may want to be patient with Spong’s use of loaded symbolic terms. If we open our minds to alternative definitions that do not insult our modern advances in thinking, we just may find some beautiful ideas to which we can assent. 3) Finally, this reviewer is an admitted fan of John Spong, as evidenced by the inclusion and fictionalization of an extensive discussion with him—with kind permission—in the reviewer’s novel that illustrates how uncritical acceptance of any belief can divide, diminish, and literally endanger our humanity (A Secret of the Universe: A Story of Love, Loss, and the Discovery of an Eternal Truth).

Disclaimers notwithstanding, it is worth clarifying that Bishop Spong’s Eternal Life is indeed a new vision that boldly chastises and discards traditional religion, yet somehow illuminates what the great mythologist and comparative religion scholar Joseph Campbell called “the power of myth” to facilitate our understanding of our experiences—in ways even strict materialists can access.

Einstein said “the only source of knowledge is experience,” and it is experiencing the realm of human emotion and the interconnectedness of living things into which Spong calls us, using this symbolic language of old. Herein lies the beauty of Eternal Life: A New Vision; its wisdom is accessible to the progressive Christian and the skeptic alike. If some of us who consider ourselves atheists wish to move beyond that simple statement about what we don’t believe, and focus on the affirmative, there is much that can be learned from Bishop Spong’s views of what it means to be alive, what it means to be human, and how even ancient mythologies can inform our experience of love, loss, mystery, wonder, and awe.

Readers who can accept new interpretations and definitions of old symbols and allegories will glean much from Spong’s shared journey of experiences—concepts that are consistent with science and modern understandings of how the real world works, consistent with the mythological truth of sacred texts, and that still call us to be more fully human and to “live fully, to love wastefully, to be all that you can be and to dedicate yourselves to building a world in which everyone has a better opportunity to do the same” (p212). If we do that, Spong argues, we can experience the connectedness he associates with “god”—which lies within us! He says, “The divine we have always sought turns out to be a dimension of the human.” We can experience the “eternal” through this life—touch it, if you will. While the book embraces death and darkness as our call to meaning and light in this life, Spong is staunchly insistent that it is through this life that we experience this new, almost scientific or quantum view of “divinity,” connectedness, and interrelatedness. (Thankfully, he makes no attempt to co-opt quantum physics into yet another new-age, woo-woo religion, as do many who seek simply to provide the next opiate to the people—or to sell get-rich-quick books on Oprah.)

While Spong’s answer to the unanswerable question of life after death is an assertive “yes, it exists,” that “yes” comes carefully nuanced in modern arguments for a somewhat mystical interconnectivity. As Carl Sagan would remind us we are all made of “star stuff.” That alone is evidence of connection. But memories literally transcend time, and we recall and still live in the love of those who are dead—which makes them live on in a real way. Still, Spong is unwilling to make the seemingly distasteful assertions of years past, that we’ll actually physically be reunited with loved ones in some anthropomorphic post-life experience. Indeed Spong’s are a new set of definitions for old ideas, and a new way of looking at life after death, so any reader expecting affirmation of traditional afterlife fantasies of milk and honey will be disappointed.

Clearly we can’t expect that Spong has discovered heretofore unknown secret knowledge of the afterlife, and revealed it in this book; but what Spong gives us is far more than just an accounting of his own spiritual and intellectual journey through life, and it’s inevitable suffering and discarded theodicy-plagued solutions. It is also more than metaphor for his spiritual journey, which he sees as parallel to that of the evolution of humanity’s search for answers on a macro scale.

Bishop Spong argues that if we are willing to listen, we can find that through death life is illuminated, transformed, inter-connected, and indeed, transcendent beyond what we seemingly see. This is a mental stretch for many of us, but one can argue it need not conflict with even a purely materialistic view of the world, where memories are but electrical impulses stored in neurons, and matter is all there is. So for skeptics and believers alike, it is worth our effort to look beyond what could be a false dichotomy of either supernatural nonsense or blindness to our full human experience, and stand wrapped in awe at what is. Reading Eternal Life will help any curious mind to do just that—celebrate what is, and embrace life more fully in the process.

 (Special Note: You can listen FREEE to Stephen’s extended interview with Bishop Spong about Eternal Life via  iTunes or online at www.truthdriventhinking.com/audioblog.htm.)

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

My Misguided Mowing Morality

Where do morals come from? It is a question I have pondered often, though I now feel relatively confident about the answer. No, if you’re channeling C.S. Lewis, our “moral law” does not come from a supernatural dictum. Before I share more, however, I’d like to employ an example that shows how cultural norms and definitions of morality might be born, and how arbitrary—and wrong—they can be. You guessed it; I’ve found yet another way to use my own errors in reasoning as an example.

FORMATION OF A LAWN ETHIC

For reasons we should try to understand, I long believed that moral people “maintain fine lawns, cut them in beautiful straight lines, and leave standing not a single blade of grass on the property—particularly by creeks or bodies of water.”

The relevant back-story begins with the fact that I live with my family in the home in which I was raised as a boy. We are the third and fourth generations to occupy at least one of two neighboring houses on large, grassy lots that overlook a pair of spring-fed creeks.

Back in the day, my grandfather and my father poured vast amounts of energy and money into taming and manicuring these lots. They even won a landscaping award from our local newspaper in the 1970s. I have fond memories of learning the value of hard, sweaty work while helping my father care for the land. The two winding streams were a visual treat, but created one of the worst jobs: mowing the banks of the creeks. This was accomplished by pushing a gas powered mower over the bank, following the contour of the bank to the water, and then heaving it upward to wearily repeat on the succeeding swath of grass.

Nothing looked as nice or provided as much satisfaction of a job well done as did that lawn, when all the banks were perfectly manicured down to the water, the trees were all trimmed, and the flat acreage had been mown in perfect rows by the International Harvester. Truthfully, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for people to stop and picnic; they thought it was a park.

To this day I can still hear my late father’s constructively critical voice if a task in the yard isn’t completed to perfection. There was never room for half efforts—a valuable lesson in many ways.

To further cement the ethic with which I was raised, that lawn served as the basis for a bond I shared with my father, who died when I was just seventeen. And ironically, my dear friend and neighbor—whom I was remembering fondly in a recent BLOG post about life after death—also shared our cultural values and norms about lawn care. We shared that common language—that metaphor—that caring for our yards had became; it was a metaphor for decency, taking pride in the appearance of one’s home, hard work, maintaining the bounty God had bestowed upon us, and for the unity and bond forged by shared labor.

In short, we always had seen our lawn maintenance as a part of our morality, our self definition, and as a metaphor for what it meant to be upstanding and good. It was, I think, right up there with church attendance.

OUT-OF-DATE METAPHORS

Jump ahead a couple decades, to a dispute with a local drain commissioner who said we could no longer mow our creek banks down to the water. Say what? Are you kidding me? Turns out our pristine creeks fall under the Michigan Drain Code, which gives purview over them to a local government authority, extending fifteen feet either side of the creek. While ultimately no such actual edict was ever formally issue, the threat was enough to freak out the entire neighborhood; she could force us to—in our eyes anyway—stop being moral!

Think about that. In my mind, and in the mind of our neighbors, the drain commissioner was asking us to violate our deeply-rooted cultural norms—essentially our morals—when she asked us to stop trimming the grass fifteen feet either side of our creek! What were we to do, let our yards look like crap? Hell, the whole world will fall apart when we start letting things go wild. Next thing you know society might just accept long hair and tattoos too! Very frightening.

It was nothing short of an outrage—except for one important thing: the drain commissioner was essentially right! Our “morals” were misguided; they were bad for the environment. It turns out that by any objective standard, the creek and environment are benefited by natural grasses and plants on the banks—from lower water temperatures for trout, to improved habitat for wildlife, and better filtration of runoff.

My experiences and culture had shaped my definition of morality to the point where I was not very “open” to this new way of the viewing the world. As is the story of my adult life, it seems, I was wrong again. (For the record, the drain commissioner was wrong about something substantial too—namely trying to force an unlawful assessment. For that she was rightly defeated in court and voted out of office.)

The bigger point is that we had developed a local set of moral codes, and codes that had evolved in such a way as to no longer be applicable and helpful given contemporary knowledge about how the world worked. It turns out that I was raised to equate a lawn-care hobby—perhaps once a symbol of prestige or leisure time, or a vestige of a farming ethic once useful in keeping the crops flowing—with whether someone was an upstanding person, knew how to work, or was a good neighbor. Fascinating.

Morals shift over time, which is why a great Christian was defined by norms quite different in, let’s say, the year 128 C.E., as in 225, or 444, or 1765, or 2009. That which is defined as “moral” is constantly changing by mechanisms not unlike those that our little tribe evolved regarding mowing our grass to the water’s edge.

Why do we no longer kill children for disobeying their parents, or for committing adultery, or find eating shellfish an abamination? Because the definitions of morality are the product of these human beliefs and changing norms, as are our gods themselves. (See Sister Karen Armstrong, Bart Ehrman, or Robert Wright.) Today could we even accept the New Testament “morality” of killing one man for the transgressions of others? Would that be a moral metaphor likely to take root today? That’s called vicarious, substitutionary atonement, and once outside a world of animal sacrifices and ancient dying-and-rising god myths, the notion is nothing short of abhorrent.

I suspect the real explanation of the origins of morals and ethics can get long and complicated, and involves fancy terms like self-organizing systems, evolutionary psychology, altruism, game theory, emergent properties, self-organizing systems, and perhaps even complexity theory. What? How can order come from disorder, without the whole system being designed by a top-down intelligence? Examples abound of bottom-up, emergent order and systems that are not designed by a top-down intelligence: the way Saturn’s rings formed as spinning mass and gravity flattened the outer matter into rings; the origin of human language—in all it’s variations that come from geographical isolation; or the creation of complex economic systems—just to name a few. Of course the best example of bottom-up organization is evolution itself—Darwinian evolution: decent with modification via natural selection. Not dissimilarly, morals and ethics evolve, and are always shifting and evolving as the world and our knowledge about it change.

Webster defines “zeitgeist” as “the general intellectual, moral, and cultural climate of an era,” and indeed it constantly changes. That’s the point. Morals can change and take root very quickly in a culture; and like my lawn-mowing “morality,” they can be memes or ideas very resistant to change or outside interference, even when the ethic is wrong or misguided.

QUESTIONING OUR ACTIONS

Still, you can take the lawn care example even a step further. It’s starting to be less clear to me why we work so hard to kill the native grasses by our homes, so we can plant new grass, so we can pour chemicals to keep it growing—and kill any old grass that’s still around, so that we can water the new grass and make it grow, so that we can cut it when it gets too tall…ad infinitum. Don’t even get me started about collecting grass clippings and leaves. There are many psychological reasons we might engage in such behaviors, and certainly some practical ones too, but on whole it is a ponderous and costly routine on which to define an ethic.

While morality myths give us great narratives through which to view and understand the importance of morals, it’s important to understand that good and bad lie in each of us. From the perspective of evolutionary psychology, natural selection may have given us this dualistic moral nature: altruism—say for farming and more urban environments, and hostility and aggressiveness—say to fight off enemies or kill meat. Perhaps someday we’ll develop new ethics and myths that ask us to judge less, and look inward more.

Still, I’m glad I’ve never claimed to be a great or perfect truth-driven thinker, because—as I often admit—I’m merely a recovering emotion-driven thinker. I still behave rather irrationally most of the time. I continue to have obvious cognitive dissonance over eating meat, which seems a little barbaric and wasteful of life—not to mention potentially not so healthy (but it tastes damn good, so I still do it). I also still play the very occasional lottery ticket for the fun of the dreaming, which is not at all a rational investment. And yes, truth-be-told, I’m still “morally mowing” in straight lines, and pouring chemicals onto my lawn. Oh, and well, yes, still mowing about 70% of the creek banks.

Shame on me. If nothing else, that should tell us just how hard it is to abandon a meme that is placed in our head by a critical parent—even if it is an unproductive or harmful one.

What do you believe, because of how you’ve been raised, that might not be constructive or relevant to the world as we know it today?

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

Forbidden Fruit: Lessons from Tammy Faye Baker and a Porn Star

What do Ron Jeremy, Tammy Faye Baker, and a Doug Jackson have in common? Well, they all taught me something about human nature, and it’s a lesson we’ve used often in the raising of our kids. Unfortunately, the lesson is not yet known to many, especially here in uptight America.

There is no way you could know, but Doug is a drug dealer. If you don’t know, Ron Jeremy is a porn star. And if you don’t remember Tammy Faye Baker, well, you should have crawled out from under that rock you lived under during the 1980s. (And if you weren’t alive in the 1980s, keep it to yourself.)

Porn star meets Tammy Faye

Let’s start with a porn star and a televangelist pastor’s ex-wife, Ron Jeremy and Tammy Faye, respectively. Some years ago I was flicking through the TV when I saw the VH1 reality television series The Surreal Life. Ron Jeremy and Tammy Faye Baker were among a group of half of a dozen celebrities living in house together. We call such shows “train wrecks,” because they are gruesome, usually helpful to no one, yet averting one’s eyes can be virtually impossible. The show’s obvious formula was to use competition and activities to create conflict, then masquerades it all as entertainment. But what ensued was somehow a revelation.

Despite her tumultuous life and fall from grace, Tammy Faye seemed genuinely upset and bothered by Ron Jeremy and his fellow porn star friends. This was not a world with which she had any familiarity, or for which she had any respect. Like many of us, she probably felt the porn stars were bad and sinful people whom she should loathe, feel sorry for, pray for, rescue, or otherwise ignore.

While I don’t recall the exact details, I remember seeing Tammy Faye’s opinions of Ron begin to change as she got to know him. Judgments and fear turned to some degree of respect for him as “nice man,” and quite perceptibly there came to be a mutual understanding and connectedness. They were both just people. One could reasonably speculate that in Tammy Faye’s mind Ron Jeremy had become perhaps a guy who might do things she didn’t like or understand—like have sex on camera—but she knew he was not evil incarnate, not dishonest, not a thief, not a rapist, not a hypersexual nymph who could think only about sex, and not any of the other judgments and biases she probably assigned to him. If my recollection is correct, they even shared some tears together. For me, it was poignant and fascinating. Who else might we hate less when we get to spend time with them, face-to-face?

Here are the concepts:

1. Humans form “in-groups” and “out-groups,” and like to divide and segregate themselves by those boundaries, even though they have far more in common than they might think.

2. Where safe to do so—sometimes crossing the barriers between groups and cultures is faciliated by obsessing less about that which is culturally “forbidden.”

Meet a Drug Dealer

The point is that most humans are just humans; but our cultures, upbringing, genetics and environments lead us to very different contexts and definitions of what is “normal,” and to very different experiences. Please don’t misunderstand, the point is not whether these two lifestyles are morally equivalent or not; I’m not making some postmodern point where truth and morals are anything we want them to be. That’s SO not me. What I’m suggesting is that it is misleading when we follow our tendencies to round people up, label, isolate, and segregate them, be it by race, religion, profession, school, or belief system. It dangerously skews our ability to see “reality,” and truth.

Purely in research for some of the scenes in A Secret of the Universe, I admit to attending some “gentleman’s clubs.” (I’m still researching that book on very rare occasion ). While yes, to some degree I enjoy myself for the obvious reasons, as with many things the greater enjoyment for me is meeting, seeing, and talking with people who live in and originate from another context—which might as well be another world from where I was raised. It’s like a dream for an amateur sociologist/psychologist.

On one such visit, a gangster-looking African-American male met us in the parking lot as we arrived with a small group that included a couple of women—including my wife. The man flirted harmlessly by way of a smile-laden welcome, and we moved inside. Later the man came by the table and bought our group a round of drinks, in honor of the pretty women.

Now think about this. What is your take of the motive, plan, or intent of this man? Well honestly, I probably shared some degree of your bias or prejudice, and perhaps he did hold out a little bit of hope for one of the women in the group; honestly however, I doubt it. I came to the conclusion he was simply being nice, while perhaps also showing off his wealth and status. Yes, I may be delusional, but hang tight.

Doug had come to say goodbye as the others in our group left, which he did so politely and with a well-wishes for all, but Julie and I stayed to finish our drinks. Before long we found we’d spent 45 minutes learning about Doug’s years in the state penitentiary, the norms, morals, and behavior codes therein, and learning about his family and his passion for teaching vacation bible school. Obviously Opie wasn’t in Mayberry anymore.

Those who know me know I’m really quite a Midwestern square, not often exposed to other cultures. So please know I realize there could be a violent side to Doug, though his crimes were not violent according to him. And yes, there are horribly violent, sociopathic street thugs in the world; so no, I don’t condone what I assume Doug’s profession to be (perhaps unfairly). But much like a mid-level player in a 1960’s Italian crime family, it didn’t take long to see there were codes, rules, and even ethics in Doug’s world, and much like Ron Jeremy, he was quite obviously not out to rape, steal from us, hurt anyone, or even be rude to anyone.

Again, I’m not being relativistic, but I ask, is it not possible that if I were born into his culture, and raised with his genetics and environment, that I might not cling to the same social values as Doug? Honestly, I looked at him and saw a friendly guy by nature—possibly lonely, possibly in need of some affirmation, possibly just a nice guy raised in a drug culture—and wondered if he wasn’t the Steve Gibson of his world! Would I, given his upbringing and culture, be incapable of selling weed? Stanley Milgram’s famous experiments made very clear that all of us have the capacity to shock our fellow humans to death in order to please authority figures. Group dynamics and social norms are a powerful force, as is the need to survive given what you’ve got.

Badasses

Let’s take this a step further. From kids we went to school with to college kids we’ve hired or known well, we’ve noticed something about those who think they are badasses. You know the types, talented and friendly, weekend partiers with tattoos and funky hair, piercings, and bad grades, but truly talented and good people, reliable and thoughtful.

I look back at high school, and see friends now on Facebook who are great citizens, often very religious, have happy families, are strict parents, and are by most definitions normal and great Midwesterners. I often reconnect with them and think “holy S*^t! These people were the scariest badass, wild things, pot-smoking, devil-incarnate, ‘bad people.’”

Well guess what—both experiences tell me that most badasses aren’t badasses at all. They may be calling for help in rare situations, may be unhappy with their lot in life to date, or they may be happy individuals unconcerned with the silly things we stress over. They may be any number of things; but what they are not is genuinely bad, dangerous, untrustworthy, or evil in any way. They are you and they are me. They are Doug Jackson and Ron Jeremy and Steve Gibson, molded and shaped by different forces and circumstances and genetics. “People are people” as the song by Depeche Mode says. In a way, it was quite probable that we would all wind up in the places we have.

The Forbidden Fruit

Most “normal” people don’t regularly wish to hurt others. Most people don’t want to hurt themselves. Most people don’t like to drink too much alcohol and feel crappy all the time. Most people don’t like to have sex with thirteen people, eighteen hours per day. Most people don’t grossly overeat (many just don’t move enough). In A Secret of the Universe I examined—fictionally—C.S. Lewis’ arguments against liberated sexuality. I won’t repeat the arguments here, but he “doth protest too much” by way of his prediction that essentially people will become sex maniacs and nymphs if women don’t dress appropriately. Could he have been hormone-raged and fearful of what he might do if those women wore fewer clothes? This forbidden fruit approach seems so unnecessary.

It is the prudish US where Ashcroft covered the statues at the Justice Department and a wardrobe malfunction is headline news for weeks. It is here where we are sex obsessed; it is not Europe or Greece where breasts and even sensuality are an accepted part of the culture.

Have you ever noticed that on average, the wildest kids are the children of the strictest parents? Seriously. Or have you ever noticed that the same formerly crazy-wild classmates you reconnect with on Facebook are now posting scripture and are extremely strict with their kids—presumably thinking that’ll stop them from making the same mistakes?

Take alcohol as another example. Do European college students binge drink as much as U.S. college students? Come on. While I’ve come to enjoy microbrews on a regular basis, I’ll bet that from 23 to 35 I probably didn’t have more than a few drinks per year. And in college, did I binge drink? No. But then again, I grew up with wine at Sunday dinner, older siblings, and I could buy alcohol locally after about 18 (for a variety of flukey reasons). The fruit was not forbidden, and therefore the thought to binge drink every weekend in college was never a pressing one.

From alcohol to sex, my wife and I tend toward the school that sees declarative forbidding as unproductive; it’s as if, given proper information, kids are not able to make reasonable choices by the time they are middle and upper teens. Conversely, we talk to our children frankly and regularly about the fun of sex and the challenges it can—and will—pose to their lives. We’ve always been candid, and thankfully—and arguably predictably—they appear to have made wise decisions to not distract themselves from school and fun with sexuality. But they’ve made those decisions not because sex is bad, or evil, or should be saved for twenty years from now when they marry, or because they’ll go to hell, or because sex shouldn’t be enjoyed.

I’ll never forget when our oldest, the high-achieving daughter, won the DARE essay contest in fourth grade. We were proud and happy for her, but even then we were pretty clear to her.  We told her that even though she’d been told that all drugs and alcohol are bad and cannot be used, there are many good drugs, some okay drugs, and some very bad drugs. You can’t just lump them together. We said, “Mom and Dad enjoy a glass of wine, that’s alcohol. Some people get drugs from their doctors, those can be helpful. Many people drink caffeine, though we choose not to. As you get older you’re going to have to think very carefully; we don’t want you to fully believe the DARE message that all drugs are equal and are equally bad. That’s nonsense. We won’t lie to you, ever. We’re here to help you because we love you.”

Forbidden Fruit: Barrier to Understanding

This blog is called Perspectives, and is a place where I share my mental explorations and efforts to view things from unique angles, so I can better understand them. In this little entry I’ve tried to illustrate that humans like to divide and segregate themselves, even though they have far more in common than they might think.

But sometimes crossing the barriers between these worlds and cultures requires that we obsess a little less about “forbidden”—where it is reasonably safe to do so, judge less, and maybe even give people who are different from us a chance. By doing so, we can clear our heads and better understand our similarities. We can then better judge what is real and what is not about how the world works, manage the real risks, break down tribal barriers, and make decisions and judgments not out of fear, but from a foundation that closer approximates truth.

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)

 

Sermon: Beliefs of a Non-Believer

The following sermon was written and presented to an eclectic Unitarian Universalist congregation, comprising people of varying beliefs and religious backgrounds. The author is a podcast listener and reader of A Secret of the Universe, and he kindly contacted me to share a draft prior to presentation. It surely struck a chord, so I requested his permission to share it with you. He generously agreed without hesitation. He did ask, however, that his full name not be used (a powerful statement in itself about the degree of intolerance toward dissenting religious views). Thanks Russ, for letting me share your powerful insights and thoughts. May they help all of us remember that reasonable and thoughtful people can draw very different conclusions about the supernatural, and live vibrantly, fully, and peacefully through our unique metaphors and narratives.

Beliefs of a Non-Believer:

Incorporating a little Atheism into your Personal Theology

A UU Sermon by “Russ”

What might a Non-believer believe?  I appreciate the opportunity to discuss this.  I will not speak for all non-believers, but I will share one perspective.   Non-spiritual people are overwhelmingly much more than Spock-like individuals who reject everything except science and reason.  We feel, we laugh, we love, we aspire, we hope, we rejoice and we are grateful.  We cherish the transformative, the transcendent, and even at times that which surpasses our comprehension and understanding.  We enjoy music, the arts, companionship, mystery, awe, beauty, walks on the beach, and getting caught in the rain—but not necessarily piña coladas.  

In talking about those of us whose worldview is entirely without belief in the super-natural, I’ll use the term Atheist.  I could avoid it and use terms such as non-theist, naturalists, secular humanists, freethinkers, post-theists, Brights, materialists, non-believers or others. Each of these names has advantages and disadvantages.  However, I’ll mostly use atheist because, while seemingly harsh to some, it is direct and honest and it is a word that is in need of redeeming. 

What does it mean to be an Atheist?  Some would define us as horrible people who hate God and love evil or people who want to see god banished from public and private life or people who are sure there is no god.  I can’t speak for all Atheists, but all I know would strongly object to any of those definitions.  Atheists are mostly just people who choose to live their lives without strict guidance from theistic beliefs.  All of us here today live our lives in neglect of certain gods; we all fail to honor, seek approval, follow the path or heed the advice of thousands of theistic traditions.  Atheists just go one god further than most.  Here’s the question for today.  Might a UU with a more supernatural worldview, find valuable perspectives rooted in atheism—to incorporate into their personal theology? 

Some might doubt that. Some see science and reason as a constraint—not a launching pad.   Most of us know the story of the Jefferson Bible.  Thomas Jefferson started with the New Testament and, with a razor, removed all the supernatural elements.  I don’t find that to be a good representation of what Atheism has to offer. I don’t like a model that suggests that religion formulates something good and then humanity uses science and reason to whittle it down and take out what doesn’t belong. To me, Atheism is not about stripping down, but rather about building up.  A materialistic worldview is fertile soil for a positive and affirming life view.  While, overwhelmingly, everyone here respects science and reason, at least as long as they stay within their circles, many feel that it is essential to go outside of the natural world for wisdom and wholeness.  As an atheist, I believe that wisdom and wholeness are enhanced by staying within the natural realm.  It is through the natural world that we see most clearly.

Some might say that an Atheistic view with a purely materialistic stance is un-natural; all cultures and people have believed in one sort of a god or another.  Not so.  Let me introduce the Piraha (pronounce pee-da-ha). These people live in the Brazilian Amazon Rain forest.   They lack beliefs in what they can’t see.  Though lacking science and even math, evidence matters to them.  They laugh a lot while taking whatever life throws at them. Daniel Everett first visited them in 1977 as a Christian missionary and a linguist sent to learn their language, translate the Bible for them, and ultimately bring them to Christ.   Instead, they brought him to atheism.  I quote from his book Don’t Sleep there are Snakes —“The Pirahãs have shown me that there is dignity and deep satisfaction in facing life and death without the comfort of heaven or the fear of hell and in sailing toward the great abyss with a smile.” 

So what are “atheistic” thoughts that might be of value?

At times it’s good to embrace “I don’t know”.  Dave Weiisbard, a UU minister said, “As many of you know, I am troubled by what I see as the trend in Unitarian Universalist churches today to look for reassurance more than challenge, to back away from doubt in search of security.”  Why are we uncomfortable with the “I don’t’ know?”   I’ve heard it said here that “Religion answers the questions that Science can’t.”  Humans have a tendency to want answers and if we can’t get them one place, we will try another.  But instead of seeking “the answer” or even “an answer” consider the perspective instead of being comfortable with …  ”I don’t know.” 

I’ve heard it explained that the New Testament spoke of demon possession and evil spirits because, of course, they did not have the knowledge base of modern psychiatry so they understood mental illness in terms that had meaning to them.  But explanations suggest actions.  What do we do about a person inhabited by a demon? “Get out the hot pokers” maybe?   That might make sense, given the understanding of demon possession,  to even the most compassionate of people.  But if you are a compassionate person and admit, “I don’t know”—might you be kinder?   If that doesn’t seem likely to you, let me tell you about Knuckles, the chimp in Florida.  He has cerebral palsy and frequently acts strange by chimp standards.  But he gets a pass for behaviors that would get other chimps cuffed.  What can chimps know about cerebral palsy?  Our closest relatives, in a condition of “I don’t know,” show strong compassion.   We can too. 

We once explained lightning as the wrath of God; this led to opposition to lightning rods because they were seen as interfering with God’s will.  So we need to recognize that explanations have serious consequences.  They suggest prescriptions and prohibitions and actions.  For such reasons, “I don’t know” is often a better choice.

In a related vein, quick answers can rob life of mystery and awe.  Take a question and a quick answer.  “Why are we moved by music?” God made us that way. Not very satisfying for me—to think I respond to music like my TV responds to its remote control—because I was made that way.  How BORING!!  Think instead—I don’t know …  now there is potential.  Music—maybe it has connections to appreciating the heartbeats of others nearby, of rhythmic breathing, of early communities and drumming, or of bird songs and other elements of the natural world. I don’t know why music moves me, but it seems very special and I treasure it and embrace music’s transcendent properties as a wonderful mystery full of possibilities.  I just don’t know, yet it’s wonderful that way.   So consider, even if you have very strong theistic beliefs, that leaving open the possibility of mysteries can enrich your life and don’t let your theology give you too many easy answers. 

Atheists aren’t inclined to look for messages where there aren’t any.  We can probably mostly all agree that sometimes (at least some of the time) things just happen for no special reason whatsoever.  It’s not always karma coming back to you nor are events always a sign from on high.  Rain falls, hurricanes strike, good ideas sometimes just don’t work out.   Don’t always take events as a judgment or criticism and don’t get too caught up in viewing success as some sign of divine approval.   Millions of people are impoverished through no fault of their own.  Victims of tsunamis, floods, tornados, and other disasters are likely as innocent as millions of others around the world who seem more “blessed”.  An Atheistic perspective would say, don’t let “karma” convince you that some blame or unworthiness marks these people. Don’t let your good fortune convince you that you are more deserving.  As Robert Ingersoll advises, “Don’t shirk your responsibility to your fellow man because somehow you think we all get what we deserve.  In nature there are neither rewards nor punishments—there are consequences.”

As an atheist, it can be easier to have a more realistic set of expectations.  If you have high expectations you are frequently disappointed.  More realistic expectations often lead to happiness and satisfaction.  As atheists, we don’t feel we have been robbed of some birthright a god wanted to give us; we didn’t somehow miss out on a paradisiacal earthly existence. We’re not consumed with expectations for perfection later.  Our target is not infinite, everlasting, unending bliss.  We’re just damn lucky to be here. Think of the how wonderful a baby’s belly laugh is.  It’s far beyond what we should expect.  Think of it—our huge planet is dwarfed by a Sun, which is nothing special among 100’s of billions in this galaxy, which is just one of the hundreds of billions of known galaxies. There certainly is a lot of beauty and grandeur in the universe, but the overwhelming vast majority of this universe just follows the laws of physics and chemistry, with nothing near as remarkable as what we find on this small planet.  For me, I can say how magnificent it is that, out of all this matter and space and time, events here have allowed the development of life, and if the culmination of all these events, over billions of years, was only just the wonderful, remarkable expression of a baby’s belly laugh, for me, that would be enough.  As they say, everything else is just gravy. 

Atheism leads me to love my fellow man.  1 John 4:20 notes that, “If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen.”

The Christian Bible provocatively questions, how can you say you love god when you don’t care for your fellow man?  Careless devotion to a supernatural being can distract you from an appreciation of your fellow man.  Did a supreme being intend for me to live in happiness?  Have I been robbed of that happiness by the failure of others to meet the expectations of that being?  Am I being punished for the sins of others?  As an atheist—I don’t see where I was intended to have anything.  I am very fortunate that the world has worked out to provide me with so much.  I see where I am now and I can recognize how much I owe to others.  I am not of a people who were kicked out of a garden of paradise because of the failings of others. I have comfort because of what others have done.  The sweat, love, kindness, and generosity of others have built this world.  True—they have not been perfect people by many standards.  Attributing blessings to some form of the divine, makes it harder to recognize how we are sheltered from the impacts of nature because of the efforts of our fellow men.  “We have all been warmed by fires we did not build and drank from wells we did not dig,”  as a familiar UU quote observes.  We have a lot to be thankful for from our predecessors.  As an Atheist, I find it easier to practice gratitude, and I seek to express gratitude to others.

Atheists don’t believe in an extended or infinite afterlife.  That makes this life all the more precious and worthwhile. Whether you are theistic or not, there are benefits from thinking that you should do your best to live as if the books were to be closed after this earthly life. You may become more of an activist if you doubt that victims of poverty and injustice will receive comfort in a later life. You may be more compassionate toward and accepting of others choices if you think that this is the only life where love can be shown.  For yourself, this life is where you need to sing and dance, love and give, imagine and explore, create and enjoy, laugh and cry.  If there is an afterlife, so much the better for you—but don’t stand on the sidelines waiting while this life passes you by.

Atheists believe that you have to find your own purpose and meaning in life. This is a huge responsibility, but you’re not going to fail the test by missing a pre-determined answer. You are not a square peg who must be sanded and smoothed to fit in a round hole.  It can be a great opportunity to realize that the meaning of your life is not a pre-determined answer or mystery that you have to get right. Rather, the meaning of your life is something you can determine to your own satisfaction.  As stated in the gospel of Luke, “Why do you not judge for yourselves what is right?  There is great power in thinking ‘My life is about what I say it is.’”

There’s a lot I didn’t have time to go into so here are some quick hits on a grab bag of naturalistic ideas:

 - For non-believers there are no chosen people, no favored sex, no group was created first or especially beloved.  More importantly, everyone shares in a common humanity.  We stand together.

 - We don’t have to pick and choose from other codes to match our moral values.  We directly define our values.

 - While appreciating the value of poetry and messages with multiple meanings, we also value clear language so that we can have honest mutual understanding. 

 - For most of us, who you marry, what you do with your body, how you live your life—is your business.  We don’t think your personal choices will make it more likely that we will get hit by a hurricane or anything like that. 

 - We judge things on their own merits, without reference to religious beliefs that might make us concerned about things like stem cell research or gay marriage. We have no reason not to be organ donors. 

 - We don’t have to deal with dilemmas like why did god help me find a parking space, but ignore the starving masses over there.

 - We know that we can be transcendent in scope and kind, like no other beings have ever been, at least in this part of the universe.

 - For atheists, there is not a line between what is sacred and what is not. A good theistic framework can do the same. The glorious, the numinous, the transcendent, can break out anytime, anywhere, in any setting. 

If there is a God, at least we’ve taken him seriously. Many of us suspect he might approve of us using our minds to try to really understand life, rather than singing empty praises.  Pascal claimed it was worth living for God even if there is no God. Robert Price turned that around and asked, “Perhaps it is worth living without God even if there is one.  Maybe that’s even his will.”

I think that atheism is a source of optimism, hope and joy.  However, I’ll admit, it would be nice if we had a family reunion after this life (not that I would want it to last forever).  I’d like to believe that a supernatural entity is protecting me from grave harm (though no followers of any deity  today are assured that). I wish that, in the end, we could count on justice prevailing and wrongs being righted.  I do wish those things.  But I can’t believe them.  Do I lose some comfort? I don’t know. For me it seems that I am more relaxed and at peace where I am, accepting only what I truly believe.  That seems far better for me than struggling to believe. I don’t see myself as better off with a hope of things which might or might not happen or a faith that would be plagued with doubts.

Maybe there are two fundamental differences in how we look at the world. When we stand in awe of some incredible wonder that touches us profoundly, some of us will be moved by thoughts of what exists outside the universe, while others will be move by thoughts of how wonderful the things within our universe can be. I hope that, across that divide, we may all share in that awe and together recognize what is truly amazing.

(Reproduced with permission–from “Russ”)

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog.)

 

On Becoming a Non-Religious Reverend

It is true. I, Steve Gibson, have joined the ranks of the ordained. I am now Reverend Stephen L. Gibson. Am I taking this even remotely seriously? Yes, mostly. Why? Well, it’s simple: the world needs more ministers.

Shocked yet? Yes, you heard me right, and I’m serious—but no, I don’t believe in any human definitions of “god.” Yes, the bad news is that I’ve officially become a wing-nut wacko. But the good news is I’m not a wing-nut wacko in the traditional sense; I don’t subscribe to any new-age woo-woo, pseudoscience, voodoo, “The Secret,” definitions of the supernatural, personal deities that intervene in healthcare or our lives, and I most certainly don’t pretend to understand quantum physics. Heck, I don’t even subscribe to the power of positive thinking; even that simple idea has been shown ineffective by recent studies.

The truth is I always thought being a pastor would be a great fit for me on several levels. Besides, as Robert Putnam articulated in his book, Bowling Alone : The Collapse and Revival of American Community, we live in a world where social interaction is not what it once was. We are very busy. We are sometimes lonely. We are not always fed, nor are our needs always met.

The Benefit

There is so much that can be gained from people who choose to minister to the needs of others, to set the bar high for their expectations of self, and others. From simple kindness, to lending an ear, to reminding us that we are valued and that adding meaning to life requires reflection, and effort.

“Pastors” and “Ministers” help us do research into thought and life philosophy, and find those stories and anecdotes that help re-center us. They provide emcee services for the rituals that can add structure and meaning to life. They strive to provide that extra voice of encouragement when we are down, and help us celebrate when we are up. They are with us in times of sorrow, and with us in times of joy. They are, in a way, a professional friend and sounding board. Could the world not use more who are committed to ministering? Of course!

For me, the only problem with my little plan is that after years of soul-searching, study, grappling, and reading, studying some more, and examining in great detail the arguments for and against human attempts to define the supernatural in any way—let alone as a personal deity who intervenes in daily life—I could no longer participate in good conscience in organizations that support such beliefs. That’s a problem for someone drawn to ministry, and a problem for many of the great pastors and scholars who have come to similar conclusions. Or is it?

The Question

Must we be religious to minister to the needs of our fellow humans? I argue emphatically, “No!”

It should be noted that I am not anti-religious. In fact, the epiphany ending in my novel about friends who make shocking discoveries about Christian history, makes the point that when we get hung up in the detailed debates about dogma, theology, and even historical truth—we miss the profound metaphorical points intended by the mythology. In short, as Joseph Campbell taught the world, myth is simply metaphor, and if we try to treat it as literal history we often miss the eternal truths about our human experience.

Concepts like redemption, sin, transgressions, forgiveness, love, grace, and salvation are so meaningful, and so central to our interactions. To suggest that these metaphorical stories—that give us a framework for understanding our humanness, should be somehow stricken from our lives and our culture—is ludicrous. They help us stretch and aspire to be all that we are capable of being—to love, and nurture, and interact positively with others. Dan Arielle’s excellent book Predictably Irrational: The Hidden Forces That Shape Our Decisions, shows the proven psychological value of mental reminders—like honor codes at schools—in improving behavior when we are reminded of the ideals contained therein. Myths can remind us as well!

Without the common language of words like “evil,” or “heaven,” we would be poor indeed. One might as well also remove all metaphors, literature, movies and art from the human experience and lexicon. The damage comes when we think myths are literally, historically true, but that is a discussion for another day.

Yes, I think the world needs non-theistic, legitimized, secular ministers, and needs them badly—for funerals, traditional recognitions, rights of passage, and other events.

Now a minority few of my fellow skeptics may be thinking that there should be no celebrations, no emotion-driven parties, no hyperbole, and no large marriage parties; but I respectfully disagree. We all need affirmation; we all need to stop and recognize our achievements, and we all need to mourn death. A professional to assist with these things is not a bad thing, it is a great thing!

In a way I already view my work as a ministry of sorts. My blog, and even my podcast, can somehow be viewed as sermons, can’t they? I enjoy and am willing to invest the time to question and inquire in such ways as to provide food for thought, much as a weekly sermon might. Of course I’m not preaching. I’m there with you, inquiring about the world, and therefore would never offer inquiry-killing solutions of a supernatural nature, nor pretend I have any lock on truth or answers—an important distinction from religious ministry where top-down truth claims are dispatched with regularity.

The Legitimacy

Lastly, on the topic of my on-line ordination through the Universal Life Church Monastery, an important thought: How is my ordination any less real, authoritative, or valid than the ordination of someone who took a traditional route through seminary? (It’s worth noting that seminary is not the only path to becoming a pastor in some Christian denominations.)  Think about that. Since I’m not claiming any knowledge of supernatural truth, or what happens in an unknowable realm outside the entirety of human knowledge, what’s the difference between me, you, and any traditionally ordained pastor? Traditional, religious ordination is about supernatural dogma, is it not?

Richard Dawkins made an excellent point in his bestselling book, The God Delusion. While I differ with him on a couple fronts, his statement that “I have yet to see any good reason to suppose that theology is a subject at all,” resonates with me.

In recounting a conversation with an astronomer and fellow Oxford professor, Dawkins recalls the astronomer replying to a very deep question, “Ah, now we move beyond the realm of science. This is where I have to hand over to our good friend the chaplain.”

But Dawkins quips that he wishes he’d said what he later wrote: “But why the chaplain? Why not the gardener or the chef?” (Dawkins, 2006).

To his point, theologians study the unknowable supernatural realm and then attempt to describe it, anthropomorphically—be it as a man, woman, Allah, Yahweh, Zoroaster, Jesus, Brahman, nirvana, or in some other speculative, unfalsifiable fashion that is so abstract as to be usefully only to illustrate mythological truth. They might as well be masters of the Star Wars mythology, masters of Dungeons and Dragons, Greek or Roman mythology, or some other mythical archetype and framework. But does that grant exclusive rights to minister to fellow humans? No.

Again, there is real knowledge conveyed in myths and in the minds of theologians, about our human condition, and there is benefit to their interpersonal and social functions as a theological pastor; but technically speaking, a degree in theology is essentially a degree in magical thinking about a mythical realm—in metaphor. That makes for great storytelling, but it guarantees no real, inherent, empirical knowledge attached to it. It offers no explanatory benefit to the world beyond what a non-religious mythology could impart.

So in short, Dawkins argues any one of us is every bit as equally able to comment and speculate about the supernatural, unknowable worlds. (And for the record, once we know something about the unknowable, by definition it becomes natural, so the supernatural truly is that which is unknown and unknowable, by definition.) In some cases, I’d actually argue that we non-believers know more, because we see the value and power of the myth, unclouded by the compulsive need to unreasonably demythologize and literalize it. But even knowledge of myths is not essential to be a good minister, in this new, secular sense, is it? We don’t have to be good story tellers or masters of metaphor to be useful.

That is admittedly some direct language for someone whose mission and mantra are to honor all faith systems, worldviews, and narratives, and to promote inter-belief tolerance. But understand, I had to use clear language to legitimize my own right to pursue my genuine passion to help my fellow humans along their journey, by provoking thought and facilitating the sanctification of the real-world human experience.

So do I think I have any UNIQUE knowledge that makes me specially suited to be a pastor? Not really, but I don’t think the job requires it. This is where the Mormons, and even Martin Luther, may have set a valuable precedent. In the Mormon Church everyone can be ordained and serve, and many become ordained at a relatively young age. There is wisdom in that. (The hugely significant and notable exception to the wise insight is that when they say everyone, they mean “only men.”) There is nothing proprietary about caring, loving, and sharing. And the more the merrier! Of course Luther helped usher in the idea of direct access of the individual to God, versus the needing the Church as the gatekeeper. I guess I’m suggesting we go a step further, and more of us minister to … well … more of us.

Conclusion

There is nothing unique about my qualifications to help others, or perhaps yours, but there doesn’t need to be. I have a passion for what I see as the valuable and valid roles that a professional “thinker” and social functionary can play in honoring humans, serving them, encouraging them, raising consciousness, loving them, and freeing them to live more fully and love more wastefully. I don’t know that I’ll ever really perform these functions professionally, but they can certainly be an avocation for all of us.

If you agree, I suggest you join me by being ordained today. Visit the Universal Life Church Monastery today, at http://www.themonastery.org/. You don’t have to claim any knowledge about supernatural realm in order raise the bar for your expectations of self, and to serve others. In fact, I’d personally prefer you didn’t.

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(Stephen L. Gibson is the author of Truth-Driven Thinking, and A Secret of the Universe, a critically acclaimed, citation-rich novel about the intersections of science, reason, and faith. Still an emotion-driven thinker in recovery, Steve shares his journey in search of ever-elusive truth with thousands via his Truth-Driven Thinking podcast, and his Perspectives blog; © 2009, Truth-Driven Strategies LLC.)