The story of the resurrection event concludes in the gospel of John with Jesus visiting the disciples in an exalted form. As we see in John 20, the post-resurrection Jesus character passes through locked doors unhindered, and a week later the Jesus character returns to convince the skeptic among the disciples that he is real. Remembering that this is a story, we know that it would be missing the point to ask where the resurrected Jesus might have gone for the week in between these visits. Instead, we can follow the rather ancient practice of interpreting the text metaphorically.
If the Jesus character is representative of us, then the resurrected Jesus character is representative of a fully alive, fully self-differentiated, best possible version of ourselves in complete alignment between our deepest values and our actions in the world. We might equate being "exalted" with a state of being unhindered by fears and anxieties, acting with complete integrity, sensitive to others without allowing ourselves to be restricted by other people's opinions and beliefs. Just as the Jesus character passes through locked doors, when we are living into a best possible version of ourselves, there are fewer obstacles that can keep us from being the people we most want to be, full incarnations of our deepest, most noble selves.
The resurrected Jesus character is not only able to be in complete alignment for himself, but he also influences the well-being of the people with whom he interacts. In the same way, we nurture others toward wholeness when we act in accord with our deepest values. Specifically, the exemplar in the story empowers others to live with integrity and purpose, particularly with regard to reactivity and shame. If we interpret sin as the reactive result of anxiety -- what people do when they allow irrational fear to be in the driver's seat -- then we recognize that we have some influence on other people's anxiety and the shame that they might feel after letting their anxiety run away with them.
When we show up as less anxious, more at peace, and in greater alignment with our deepest values, we influence the people around us. Just as anxiety is contagious, intentional calmness can be contagious, too. This means that our ability to act in alignment with our deepest, most noble selves has the potential to influence people away from reactivity. Even when people are reactive and act thoughtlessly on their anxiety, our principled intentional presence can influence people away from useless shame after the fact. We can acknowledge that being anxious is human, and reacting to our anxiety is natural. Yes, there are consequences to our actions and messes to clean up, but we are capable of facing those consequences and seeking reconciliation when things go sideways. Shame doesn't help us with these tasks. When we influence people toward greater wholeness by our own integrity and purposeful behavior, we might allow them to place limits on the influence of their anxiety and shame, and learn to cast vision in their own lives.
Now, the story about Thomas seems to be thrown in just to silence skeptics. Pronouncing blessing on people who believe things without evidence is a way of credentialing nonsense. When readers take the implications of this story at face-value, it affirms everything that is dangerous about religion. Believing something just because someone wrote it down two thousand years ago is naive at best. It lacks integrity to believing what spiritual leaders say just because they say it with conviction or wear special clothing or have authorization from a larger organization. Some things proclaimed on the basis of religious doctrine are quite simply false. Not only is there a lack of evidence to support some of the things people believe on the basis of religion, there is actual evidence to the contrary. Yet some people believe that they will be considered blessed or righteous for believing nonsense, because they read a passage like the story of Thomas and interpret it to mean, "ignore reality; believe what your preacher tells you."
Although it's probably easier just to dismiss this passage as a piece of early Christian propaganda to legitimize faith, we could also interpret this story to suggest that there are always things we do not know. We can guess with some reliability that the things we don't know will be congruent with the things that we can prove about reality, but there are still things that we don't know. In embarking on any journey of personal growth -- one might say personal transformation -- we must take some steps without knowing what lies ahead. To characterize growing into greater integrity and authenticity as vulnerable and risky is a profound understatement. When we build our lives with confident alignment to our deepest values, we may not see all that will be as a result of that intentional act. We move forward with as much clarity as we can have about our deepest values, but there are limits to our clarity. At some point, we have to trust ourselves to step forward into something we can't see clearly in order to become more fully alive -- more closely aligned with our vision of a best possible version of ourselves. If we take anything from the story of Thomas' skepticism, it should be this, rather than an admonition to believe nonsense and call it enlightenment.
The author ends the book of John with a statement of purpose. It's clear that the author has an agenda to convince people to accept his own religious position. The agenda of this commentary has hopefully been equally clear: to position the fictional character of Jesus in this ancient text as a metaphorical exemplar of what we might be if we choose to embrace our potential to radically love ourselves, the people around us, and the world we all share.
The goal of our lives is only determined by us. There is nothing outside of ourselves that compels us to outgrow our anxiety and our irrational fear. In some ways, society prompts us to remain anxious and reactive. However, if we choose to move toward being fully alive incarnations of our deepest, most noble selves, we are capable of embarking on that journey. We have within us the potential to act with integrity and intention. We have within us the ability to influence our lives and the lives of people around us toward greater wholeness. If this is not a compelling message of hope, I don't know what is.
Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belief. Show all posts
Monday, October 19, 2015
Monday, February 17, 2014
The "G" Word
I've wrestled with using the word "God" for some time now. I know that there are some people who invent their own definitions in order to keep using the word without necessarily meaning what other people mean by the word.
"God is the space between people."
"God is a person's ultimate concern."
"God is the life force that flows through all things."
This is all well and good, except that I know when I use the word "God" without going into detail to define it, other people are going to conjure up whatever their own image of God is, and most likely they're going to have an image of God that is somehow connected to the Judeo-Islamo-Christian God. Even if they have a different image of God, it's not likely to be identical to my image of God. I keep using capital-G "God" at this point because that term has come to be synonymous with a singular higher power, most often portrayed as intelligent, willful, and benevolent, with a vengeful streak toward people who hold different opinions or lifestyles than the person doing the portraying. Given that I can't control what a listener does with the word, I generally choose not to use the word "God" (unless I'm asking a question about someone's specific claims about their image of a deity).
That doesn't mean I don't have any ideas about God. Aside from acknowledging that no actual gods exist in objective reality -- that indeed there is no credible evidence to support claims of supernaturalism -- I still have some ideas about God. Those ideas extend to any god, goddess, ancestral spirit, fairies, and so on. If I were to use the word "God," I know what I would mean by it. Maybe it's better to get over what other people will do with the word in their interpretation.
God is a word people use to describe a deep part of ourselves. Sometimes, it's easier to imagine that inner part of our being as something outside of us. It's easier to imagine talking to something external to ourselves; it's easier to imagine being comforted by something external to ourselves; it's easier to imagine being loved by something external to ourselves. Some people get so accustomed to imagining this deep part of themselves as something external to themselves that they forget that God is the inner part of their being. They start to believe that what they imagine about God being external to them should be what everyone imagines about God. It's difficult for them to see that, since God is just a word people use to describe a deep part of themselves, everyone is going to have a different image of God.
People have concocted a lot of gods, as it turns out. None of those gods are real, but they are the ideas that were evoked from the inner lives of lots of different people. People feel angry sometimes, so they might imagine a god that is angry about the same things. People are awed by nature, so they might imagine that nature has gods too, that nature has a self. People imagine gods that act and feel the way those people act and feel, and sometimes people imagine gods that act and feel in ways that those people wish they could act and feel. From within different people, many different ideas of gods have emerged. None of those external ideas of gods actually do or feel anything, but they reflect what people do and feel within the innermost parts of their being.
Sometimes imagining that God is something external can be used as a buffer. When people say that God blessed them with certain abilities, they can speak boldly about themselves without seeming egotistical. When someone says that God punished a group of people with a hurricane, that person is actually expressing personal hatred or fear about a group of people and using an external idea of God as a deflector. When people pray that a person will recover from an injury or illness, they are actually expressing their own desire for the person's recovery... which is kind of odd, when you think about it. Why not just say what one wants or feels?
I believe people don't say what they honestly want or feel because they either fear how other people will respond or they fear that they are somehow not enough in their own lives. Using the idea that God is something outside of them allows people to talk about things they would be otherwise afraid to talk about. This doesn't make God real as something outside of them. It just offers people the illusion that they are not actually talking about themselves. It provides a persona on which people can project what they want and what they feel, and this feels safer than vulnerable authenticity.
The ideas people create about gods have inspired lots of stories, and many of these stories hold incredible bits of wisdom. Unfortunately, sometimes people forget to look for the wisdom within the stories and believe that the stories are intended to represent surface-level reality. Stories become "histories" rather than legends, and histories are about recounting factual data. Stories about gods aren't about factual data; they're about the inner development of people -- about growth within a person and between people. When we recognize that God or god (or goddess) is a word we use for something deep within ourselves, then it becomes easier to look at stories about God or gods (or goddesses) as lessons about who we are rather than vessels of factual data. Stories about gods are stories about us; when we make them more than that, they become less useful.
We don't insist that other people have the same innermost being as us. We shouldn't insist that people have the same God as us. Neither is possible. Whatever God you believe in is something you have imagined. If you don't believe me, ask 10 of your adult friends to describe God (or better, to draw a picture of God) using their own words and not quoting any sacred text. How many of your friends describe God exactly as you do? This isn't a matter of blind men describing an elephant. People have different descriptions of God because people have different selves. This is a problem for some, because they expect their God to do something that isn't possible -- something that they are not capable of doing.
Our innermost beings are not capable of producing miracles in the world around us. Our innermost beings are not capable of changing other people. When we forget that God is a word we use for something deep within us -- an intrinsic part of ourselves -- we develop untenable expectations. God is a way for us to forgive ourselves for doing something that goes against our guiding principles. God is a way for us to guide ourselves toward better decisions, greater integrity, or more authentic love for others. God is a way for us to comfort ourselves in the face of loss. Having a word for that deep part of ourselves is useful. Until we make that word mean something more.
When I hear anyone talk about deity or fairies or ancestral spirits or anything of the like, I understand that they are telling me something about themselves. Sometimes translation is difficult when people become more academic in their communication, but I know that these are just ways that say things about themselves that they would otherwise find difficult to communicate. No one can ever tell me anything about God that I don't already know. No one can ever tell you anything about God that you don't already know. I can't worship anyone else's God, and neither can you. I can't know anyone else's God, and neither can you. God is a word we use for something deep inside of us, an intrinsic part of us. We can never know someone deeply enough to truly know their God, but we can appreciate that when people speak of God, they are speaking of themselves. They are speaking of a very deep part of themselves.
I may still avoid the use of the word. It's a messy word because so many people believe that it means something different than what it actually means. I may still strive to speak about what I want and what I feel in a way that is vulnerably authentic and leave God out of the conversation altogether. Should I start using the word "God," though, you'll at least have some idea what I mean. More importantly, I'll have a clear idea what I mean. It helps me listen to people sometimes, except when they insist that their imagination defines objective reality for other people. Maybe this will help you in some way, too. There are probably volumes that could flow from what I've articulated here, but the basic idea that all those volumes would flow from is still fairly simple: God is a word we use to talk about our innermost being.
"God is the space between people."
"God is a person's ultimate concern."
"God is the life force that flows through all things."
This is all well and good, except that I know when I use the word "God" without going into detail to define it, other people are going to conjure up whatever their own image of God is, and most likely they're going to have an image of God that is somehow connected to the Judeo-Islamo-Christian God. Even if they have a different image of God, it's not likely to be identical to my image of God. I keep using capital-G "God" at this point because that term has come to be synonymous with a singular higher power, most often portrayed as intelligent, willful, and benevolent, with a vengeful streak toward people who hold different opinions or lifestyles than the person doing the portraying. Given that I can't control what a listener does with the word, I generally choose not to use the word "God" (unless I'm asking a question about someone's specific claims about their image of a deity).
That doesn't mean I don't have any ideas about God. Aside from acknowledging that no actual gods exist in objective reality -- that indeed there is no credible evidence to support claims of supernaturalism -- I still have some ideas about God. Those ideas extend to any god, goddess, ancestral spirit, fairies, and so on. If I were to use the word "God," I know what I would mean by it. Maybe it's better to get over what other people will do with the word in their interpretation.
God is a word people use to describe a deep part of ourselves. Sometimes, it's easier to imagine that inner part of our being as something outside of us. It's easier to imagine talking to something external to ourselves; it's easier to imagine being comforted by something external to ourselves; it's easier to imagine being loved by something external to ourselves. Some people get so accustomed to imagining this deep part of themselves as something external to themselves that they forget that God is the inner part of their being. They start to believe that what they imagine about God being external to them should be what everyone imagines about God. It's difficult for them to see that, since God is just a word people use to describe a deep part of themselves, everyone is going to have a different image of God.
People have concocted a lot of gods, as it turns out. None of those gods are real, but they are the ideas that were evoked from the inner lives of lots of different people. People feel angry sometimes, so they might imagine a god that is angry about the same things. People are awed by nature, so they might imagine that nature has gods too, that nature has a self. People imagine gods that act and feel the way those people act and feel, and sometimes people imagine gods that act and feel in ways that those people wish they could act and feel. From within different people, many different ideas of gods have emerged. None of those external ideas of gods actually do or feel anything, but they reflect what people do and feel within the innermost parts of their being.
Sometimes imagining that God is something external can be used as a buffer. When people say that God blessed them with certain abilities, they can speak boldly about themselves without seeming egotistical. When someone says that God punished a group of people with a hurricane, that person is actually expressing personal hatred or fear about a group of people and using an external idea of God as a deflector. When people pray that a person will recover from an injury or illness, they are actually expressing their own desire for the person's recovery... which is kind of odd, when you think about it. Why not just say what one wants or feels?
I believe people don't say what they honestly want or feel because they either fear how other people will respond or they fear that they are somehow not enough in their own lives. Using the idea that God is something outside of them allows people to talk about things they would be otherwise afraid to talk about. This doesn't make God real as something outside of them. It just offers people the illusion that they are not actually talking about themselves. It provides a persona on which people can project what they want and what they feel, and this feels safer than vulnerable authenticity.
The ideas people create about gods have inspired lots of stories, and many of these stories hold incredible bits of wisdom. Unfortunately, sometimes people forget to look for the wisdom within the stories and believe that the stories are intended to represent surface-level reality. Stories become "histories" rather than legends, and histories are about recounting factual data. Stories about gods aren't about factual data; they're about the inner development of people -- about growth within a person and between people. When we recognize that God or god (or goddess) is a word we use for something deep within ourselves, then it becomes easier to look at stories about God or gods (or goddesses) as lessons about who we are rather than vessels of factual data. Stories about gods are stories about us; when we make them more than that, they become less useful.
We don't insist that other people have the same innermost being as us. We shouldn't insist that people have the same God as us. Neither is possible. Whatever God you believe in is something you have imagined. If you don't believe me, ask 10 of your adult friends to describe God (or better, to draw a picture of God) using their own words and not quoting any sacred text. How many of your friends describe God exactly as you do? This isn't a matter of blind men describing an elephant. People have different descriptions of God because people have different selves. This is a problem for some, because they expect their God to do something that isn't possible -- something that they are not capable of doing.
Our innermost beings are not capable of producing miracles in the world around us. Our innermost beings are not capable of changing other people. When we forget that God is a word we use for something deep within us -- an intrinsic part of ourselves -- we develop untenable expectations. God is a way for us to forgive ourselves for doing something that goes against our guiding principles. God is a way for us to guide ourselves toward better decisions, greater integrity, or more authentic love for others. God is a way for us to comfort ourselves in the face of loss. Having a word for that deep part of ourselves is useful. Until we make that word mean something more.
When I hear anyone talk about deity or fairies or ancestral spirits or anything of the like, I understand that they are telling me something about themselves. Sometimes translation is difficult when people become more academic in their communication, but I know that these are just ways that say things about themselves that they would otherwise find difficult to communicate. No one can ever tell me anything about God that I don't already know. No one can ever tell you anything about God that you don't already know. I can't worship anyone else's God, and neither can you. I can't know anyone else's God, and neither can you. God is a word we use for something deep inside of us, an intrinsic part of us. We can never know someone deeply enough to truly know their God, but we can appreciate that when people speak of God, they are speaking of themselves. They are speaking of a very deep part of themselves.
I may still avoid the use of the word. It's a messy word because so many people believe that it means something different than what it actually means. I may still strive to speak about what I want and what I feel in a way that is vulnerably authentic and leave God out of the conversation altogether. Should I start using the word "God," though, you'll at least have some idea what I mean. More importantly, I'll have a clear idea what I mean. It helps me listen to people sometimes, except when they insist that their imagination defines objective reality for other people. Maybe this will help you in some way, too. There are probably volumes that could flow from what I've articulated here, but the basic idea that all those volumes would flow from is still fairly simple: God is a word we use to talk about our innermost being.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Common Threads: Incorporating Concepts of Christian Spirituality into a Secular Humanist Context
As part of a course in Christian Spirituality, I wrote an integrative paper which was intended to indicate how I had integrated the concepts of the course into my life, while still being an academic paper. I approached the topic authentically as an atheist humanist. This is a lengthy academic paper, but it addresses some pertinent topics in a way that I am happy to share with anyone willing to take the time to read it.
Specific nomenclature and personalities characterize Christian spirituality, as is the case with most faith traditions. Although many Christians may perceive their beliefs and practices as unique to their religion, beneath the surface of theological language, the practical application of idealized Christian spirituality is quite similar to what one may find in a multitude of human spiritual and cultural contexts. As with any religion, Christianity becomes dangerous to society when its adherents insist that all people must believe as they do, and the violent and oppressive ramifications of this characteristic of religion are apparent in every period of recorded human history. If one could strip away insistence upon specific linguistic labels and bypass the separation of “Believer” and “Nonbeliever” inherent in most expressions of evangelical Christianity, however, one would find a collection of practices that support meaningful human relationships and personal integrity. Christianity’s greatest weakness is that these potentially valuable practices are used to support assertions that overshadow the gospel message of love, namely that human beings are essentially depraved, incapable of love and integrity by their own effort, and that an afterlife of reward or punishment awaits every individual, based on one’s acceptance of the mythology regarding an implausible divine being’s blood sacrifice. Should any person choose to develop the spiritual values found in Christianity apart from their basis on the supernatural, that person might gain a clearer understanding of the teachings of Jesus in the gospel narratives than many who identify themselves as “Christian.”
Spirituality, as a comprehensive term, is a way of describing the actions people take to incorporate deeply held beliefs into their practical lives. While some definitions of Christian spirituality skirt the issue, accurately defining Christian spirituality necessitates a comprehensive definition of Christianity. Unfortunately, this has become less and less possible as individuals self-identify as “Christian” based on flawed or incomplete understanding of Christian mythology, not to mention divisions of various Protestant denominations over doctrinal conflict. This is a boon to all people who have an interest in exploring a more integrated life, since there is now a greater diversity of beliefs that spirituality may support. One Christian may support through spiritual practices a belief in guardian angels, while another may support the belief that God wants worshippers to be wealthy, and another still may look to the actual teachings of Jesus as depicted in the gospels to determine what beliefs spiritual practices should support. With this incredible diversity within the Christian community, it is understandable that some writers are satisfied with a definition of spirituality apart from a specifically Christian context.
The key to spirituality is that it reflects intentional integration of beliefs into the practical reality of one’s life. Spirituality is not limited to a specific set of doctrines or principles. Spirituality is about purposeful action based on deeply held beliefs. People automatically act on their beliefs every day, although this action is not necessarily conscious or purposeful. Some people may even experience a certain amount of anxiety in their lives because they think they believe in a certain set of principles, while their actions reflect a different set of deeply held beliefs, of which an individual may not even be completely aware. One’s actual beliefs may even be radically different from what one wants to believe, and this can only be recognized with intentional exploration of the self. Thus, human behavior is always the result of beliefs being integrated into practical action; spirituality is the practice of making that integration intentional. When one’s life becomes a purposeful reflection of deeply held guiding principles, then life can be more fulfilling because it results in a more fully authentic expression of one’s self.
There is danger in purposefully engaging in spiritual practices without truly examining one’s beliefs. As can be seen in the fear and hatred expressed by many twenty-first century “Christians,” spiritual practices can reinforce false beliefs if one remains oblivious to the difference between irrational fear and guiding principles. Fear can seem very important and powerful, and yet it cannot have the sustainable strength of emotionally mature guiding principles. While spirituality defines the purposeful actions one takes to integrate deeply held beliefs into the practical reality of one’s life, one must also critically examine one’s beliefs to determine which beliefs are desirable and which are based on falsehoods and fears. Without a set of guiding principles that supports personal responsibility and integrity, and love and respect for other human beings, spirituality can become a very purposeful way of reinforcing irrational beliefs. In other words, if spirituality is focused passion, one should be aware and intentional about one’s passions.
Thus, while it is impossible to say exactly what is “Christian” about Christian spirituality, it can be said that spirituality is how an individual chooses to be in the world. Since spirituality is the intentional practical application of guiding principles, a secular humanist can potentially incorporate insights from any religious tradition without kowtowing to supernaturalism or the political leanings of twenty-first century religious power structures. Belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, for instance, is a statement of faith, since it is impossible to empirically prove such a claim. A variety of intentional practices can support such a guiding principle, and these intentional practices might look indistinguishable from what an emotionally mature religious person would choose to do in support of a set of religious beliefs. While there are potentially other descriptive labels for the connecting of guiding principles with practical actions, the term spirituality need not be confined to religious contexts.
[Some Christians consider the six great traditions of the Christian faith to be the Holiness, Contemplative, Social Justice, Charismatic, Evangelism, and Incarnational traditions.]
While some Christians identify six traditional means of the outward expression of faith, the definitions of these means of expression require a bit of adaptation if they are to be meaningfully applied in a non-Christian context. Whereas the Holiness tradition might be defined as “purity in thoughts, words, and actions, and overcoming temptation,” the challenging words purity and temptation reflect a mental model that may not be shared by a secular humanist. However, one might re-frame Holiness as “having self-differentiated thoughts and actions, and dismantling irrational fear.” While there is most likely a more appropriate label to attach to this outward expression of emotional maturity, it undoubtedly captures the spirit of the Holiness tradition in a way that can have broader usefulness apart from a religious context.
Meaningfully translating some of the recognized traditions into a non-religious context requires little adaptation, however. People from nearly all faith traditions and cultures practice Social Justice to some extent, and while Contemplation in a Christian context implies communion with an external divine being, people have incorporated the practice of meditation and introspection in many contexts, religious and otherwise. Other traditions suffer, as the tradition of Holiness does, from alienating terminology, both in the name given to the expression itself and in the words used to describe and define it. The Charismatic tradition involves “engaging the Holy Spirit while developing and exercising one’s spiritual gifts.” While this may seem immediately dismissible to one who eschews supernaturalism, beneath the linguistic religiosity, this tradition is about recognizing and legitimizing one’s authentic self—perhaps even one’s deepest guiding principles—and nurturing and exercising one’s innate capability. Again, a less alienating label can perhaps be applied, but the ideal of the Charismatic tradition can be made useful in a non-Christian context. The same could be said of the Incarnational tradition, which also may seem immediately worthy of rejection within the context of secular humanism, given that what is presumably being made “incarnate” is overtly supernatural. Any person who strives toward emotional maturity, however, is in a sense attempting to “incarnate” deeply held intentions—to unify the intended and the actual areas of life. Put another way, emotional maturity involves learning to show forth one’s authentic self more clearly. This is, at its core, Incarnational.
While it is somewhat artificial and gratuitous to translate these traditional means of expressing faith into a non-Christian context, the value of finding common conceptual threads that connect radically different perspectives is that people learn to see one another as similar rather than Other. Specialized and alienating language is less of a barrier to harmonious relationships when the actual intentions beneath the linguistic challenges become clear. This illustrates the importance of appropriately applying the Evangelical tradition, which has been made more challenging by the appropriation of the term “evangelical” by a particularly fundamentalist, politically conservative, and socially bullying sector of American Christendom. While the term originates from the concept of sharing “good news,” many who outwardly proclaim themselves to be “evangelical” express more fear, hatred, and arrogance than anything that might be considered good news to anyone. Thus, it is perhaps even more important that those outside the Christian context become adept at framing the message of human value in a way that is filled with hope and inspiration rather than contributing to the environment of fear and anxiety. The inherent worth and dignity of every person is indeed a message of good news, and in the face of fear-mongering and claims of superiority, it is a message that is vitally important to the postmodern world.
Balance is the ideal approach to these traditional expressions of faith, according to many Christian writers on the subject. This involves being aware of how one spends time and energy and where one lacks confidence or practice. In a certain sense, by extrapolating how the biblical example of the character of Jesus embodies this aspects of faith, one could say that being “Christ-like” involves practicing all of these outward expressions of faith in equal measure. Taken from a less religious perspective, however, one sees another aspect to these traditions, as they have been provisionally reframed. Placed next to one another, the goals of these outward expressions from a more humanist perspective might be seen as: having self-differentiated thoughts and actions and overcoming irrational fear, recognizing one’s authentic self while nurturing and exercising one’s innate capabilities, spending time in introspection and meditation, honoring and caring for others, unifying the intended and actual areas of one’s life, and sharing the hopeful and inspiring news of human potential and capability while continuing to grow in knowledge and insight. This is the epitome of emotional maturity (or self-differentiation) based on the guiding principle of the inherent worth and dignity of all people. Balance is inherent in the process of recognizing one’s own worth, examining one’s guiding principles and dismantling the fear and lies that threaten to provoke anxious reactivity, and reaching out beyond oneself to acknowledge the value of other people. If one commits to living authentically, without acting based on fear or obligation, but rather out of a deep faith that human beings are capable of building a better world, personal balance in these various expressions is potentially a byproduct rather than a goal. Where there is imbalance, there is fear; dismantling fear opens the way for balance. At the same time, balance is an illusion, for each of these components will be in a constant state of fluctuation in the life of a person who is growing and becoming more emotionally mature. Any attempt to assess balance based on a static snapshot is misguided. Maintaining focus on the process of inward and outward work toward emotional maturity and authentic expression of guiding principles yields a full expression of all of the traditional Christian expressions of faith, without the limitations of Christian mythology and supernaturalism.
Like the process of breathing, the process of growing into greater emotional maturity based on meaningful guiding principles requires taking in and releasing. When one develops the practice of reaching inward to maintain connection with one’s deepest self, then one is better able to reach outward to connect with others. For some, this may look self-indulgent, but one must indulge one’s deepest intentions in order to live them out in practical reality. Indulgence is harmful when based on fear, as is often the case when people develop psychological addictions, but indulging in introspection—time to still the mind and reconnect with an inner sense of what is most important—is vital to bring forward an authentic expression of oneself into the world. Amid the busyness of life, stillness and silence may require discipline, but without time of inward connection, irrational fears and old lies may more easily govern behavior.
Intentional growth toward emotional maturity is a process, regardless of whether one embraces any specific religious tradition. Christians and humanists alike must trust the process rather than allow it to be a further source of anxiety. Like following the path of a labyrinth toward its eventual and inevitable center, if one foot is placed in front of the other along the path, the destination is certain. Human beings cannot always be certain of the destination of their lives in terms of external circumstances, but individuals can choose to take slow and methodical steps toward greater emotional maturity. In its assertion of an afterlife, Christian thinking sometimes fails to offer practical hope. If one can do nothing to control one’s life except trust in an inscrutable, omnipotent divine being and wait for a better experience after death, then one cannot be empowered toward any meaningful growth. Likewise, if one cannot do any good except by the inner working of a divine entity beyond one’s own control, then one cannot be personally responsible for one’s contribution to the world. Humanism offers greater potential for practical hope in that it asserts the capability and responsibility of human beings for their own growth and contributions. The practice of inward stillness and silence is especially important when one’s own personally-determined guiding principles are the linchpin of a meaningful life. Where some Christians strive to trust a process of listening to and being guided by something outside of themselves (for which stillness and silence are necessary), a humanist approach can use the same practice of stillness and silence to look inward and foster deeply rooted guiding principles that allow for greater fearlessness and authenticity. One might even suggest that Christians who pray or seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit are looking to the same place for truth—deep within themselves—using a different set of terminology that reflects a lack of confidence in their own ability to answer the important questions of purpose and authenticity.
In considering how other core beliefs and practices inherent to Christian spiritual identity might inform a less religious, more rational, human-focused life of integrated guiding principles, it is important to recognize that there are limitations to the foundational claims of Christianity upon which otherwise useful practices rest. While any human being can find value in introspection, social justice, and striving for emotional maturity, there is less use outside of a Christian context for concepts like the transcendence of God beyond time and space and the immanence of God’s relationship with the natural world, which were contrived to explain and justify a belief system that has no basis in concrete reality. Equally unhelpful is the concept of an absolute moral authority that cannot be equally accessed and interpreted by every person; it is impossible to verify or refute anything that an individual claims about what God wants. Perhaps it is comforting to claim that all things are under the control of an almighty deity, but in a certain sense, this is a dismissive assertion that delegitimizes personal responsibility. Such ideas require the very reinterpretation of the divine if they are to be useful in constructing a humanist spirituality.
Some stepping-stones in the Christian understanding of spiritual identity can be useful, if one is interested in incorporating them in a non-Christian context and willing to perform some radically transformative interpretation. As one example, soteriology, or the doctrine of salvation, becomes useless in a mental model that dismisses the idea of sinfulness and human depravity, but if what the Christian context calls “sin” is addressed honestly as behavior prompted by irrational fear, then salvation becomes a matter of personal responsibility. Salvation becomes emotional maturity or self-differentiation. Even the concept of a trinity of personalities within one unified deity reflects a deeper truth about human interconnectivity within a larger system. Discarding the concept of a deity does not necessitate discarding the deeper truths of human relationships.
Perhaps it is worth exploring the idea that divinity is within the individual—that references to the divine are essentially references to the deepest, most noble self within a person. Platitudes can potentially take on a much deeper meaning if this is the case. For instance, some Christians speak of presenting themselves to God (preferably in a state of holiness and blamelessness), or of belonging to God, or of being devoted to God. One might consider what it would be like to present oneself to one’s Self—to look closely at one’s real, practical, intentional identity from the perspective of one’s idealistic, value-based, deepest, most noble and creative Self. As a replacement for the question of whether one “belongs” to God, the simple question, “Am I my own?” evokes an honest examination of one’s motivations and authenticity. Perhaps one is living out of a sense of fear or obligation toward others, denying one’s own deepest guiding principles in favor of superficial acceptance or keeping the peace. If one can strive to be devoted to one’s best self, this is in many ways more compelling than being devoted to a deity about which nothing can be known with certainty and about which many people disagree.
Ultimately, even if one is devoted to God, it is only one’s own concept of God to which one can be devoted. Being devoted to one’s deepest, most noble self is a powerful concept that would be difficult in many iterations of Christian spirituality due to a belief that people are wicked, broken, or damaged. If people are, at their core, incapable and unworthy, then anything good in a person must be considered to come from something outside of the person, and thus there is nothing within a person worthy of devotion. However, if people are recognized as innately capable of love, joy, peace, goodness, compassion, gentleness, and self-control, then these qualities can be seen as the fruits of their true nature, not some alien influence on their lives. Thus, where some Christian spiritual ideas make things immensely more complicated than necessary and abdicate personal worth and responsibility, the same concepts can be put to meaningful use in a non-Christian context which values people—or, as some might concede, a context which sees people as the character of Jesus in the gospel narratives does.
One challenge to the statement of faith that all people have inherent value is that it ultimately leads to a disintegration of tribalism, and human beings seem incredibly adept at distinguishing between “Us” and “Them.” Christianity has not managed to overcome tribalism; in fact, Protestantism has exacerbated tribalism within Christianity, finding reasons to build walls and corral people at every turn. The challenge of biblical love is no different from the challenge of humanism, however. While many would look at the commandment to “love one another,” as an insular order regarding how people within a faith community were to treat other people within that same faith community, this limitation is not reflected in the biblical depiction of Jesus. While it is true that the rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous, the delineation inherent in the statement is unnecessary. Rain falls on people; the sun shines on people. The biblical call to love “one another” is, in essence, the very core of how a humanist vision of transformation must be founded. While the Christian church has not lived up to its own guiding principle very well in this regard, the implication of biblical love is that there is no “Them;” there is only one big “Us.” There is no human system in the world that cannot benefit from a more intentional application of this ideal.
Fear is the enemy of “Us.” Irrational fear of people who are in some way distinguishable from how individuals see themselves leads to behaviors that damage society. In the same way, irrational fears lead individuals to do things that are harmful to themselves. What Christian spirituality considers to be “deadly thoughts” are prime examples of this irrational fear, as well as the falsehoods that people develop throughout their lives. Gluttony and greed are expressions of the fear of scarcity. Misplaced anger is reactivity out of emotional immaturity. Envy, pride, lust, and indifference are all expressions of disconnection from, or devaluing of, one’s true self. Similarly, the virtues that are said to serve as counterparts to these “deadly thoughts” are various expressions of recognizing one’s value as a human being, striving for emotional maturity, and engaging with one’s guiding principles. Temperance, mildness, generosity, happiness, humility, chastity, diligence, and wisdom are all results that stem naturally from emotional maturity and honest self-evaluation. While it is valuable to consider where irrational fears and false beliefs originated, it is more important to continually return within to confirm one’s deep guiding principles and strive to unite these principles with the practical reality of daily life. One need not itemize virtues and “deadly thoughts,” but if it is helpful to an individual in recognizing areas in which fears and lies are prevalent, then even the distinctions of Christian tradition can serve as a starting point for honest self-evaluation.
In order to move closer to God, to express biblical love more effectively, and to shift from “deadly thoughts” toward their respective virtues, Christian spirituality considers a selection of behaviors—or disciplines—useful. Similar sets of meaningful habits may be useful for individuals seeking to break away from behaviors that do not reflect innermost values, or to commit oneself to developing behaviors that are more in alignment with deeply held guiding principles. While praying to something outside of oneself makes no sense in a humanist context, the practice of meditation and introspection has already been lifted up as a necessary piece of developing emotional maturity and engaging in honest self-assessment. Study is an equally important component of growth, especially considering the Christian inclusion in this discipline of studying the natural world and the careful observation of systems. While fasting may be helpful in terms of developing self-discipline, a more worthwhile exercise might be to consider why one is particularly drawn toward something that does not match with one’s guiding principles. Self-denial without self-examination is empty.
In fact, many of the spiritual disciplines regarded as beneficial in terms of Christian spirituality can be expressed in terms that have already been outlined: regarding all people (including oneself) as valuable necessarily leads toward certain types of behavior, and it is necessary for an individual to engage in consistent self-examination to verify that personal actions reflect guiding principles. This self-examination is a profoundly important discipline that many people neglect. If one does not truly understand one’s own beliefs, then one can never honestly explain one’s own actions. The entire process of looking within and maintaining one’s connection to self, then looking without and acting intentionally in the world is a disciplined way of being as well. In many ways, this process is counter-cultural and requires recognition of the vulnerability inherent in human existence. If approached from a humanist perspective, the process of building emotional maturity requires wrestling with difficult questions about oneself, other people, and life itself, with the added challenge that supernatural or doctrinally based answers are not satisfactory. A disciplined approach to such wrestling is necessary to continue seeking and applying meaningful answers in everyday life.
All people have beliefs. At a certain level, some deeply held beliefs cannot be proven. There is rarely anything to be gained from debating such beliefs with the expectation that another person’s viewpoint might be swayed into agreement. There is value, however, in recognizing one’s own deeply held beliefs, dismantling those beliefs which are actually irrational fears and falsehoods, and choosing a set of guiding principles by which life can be intentionally made meaningful. Although Christianity has many features that encourage supernaturalism, tribalism, and the devaluation of personal value and responsibility, some of the practices by which Christians claim to connect faith with practical reality are equally useful to individuals in a non-Christian context. If one approaches the spiritual practices of any religion with an eye toward finding personal value rather than an intention to criticize and judge, one is likely to find elements that can be used in support of the guiding principles by which one wishes to connect with oneself and other people. This can mean some amount of re-contextualization of ideas from other belief systems, but this need not translate into insistence that one’s interpretation of a practice is right while all others are wrong. The important task is finding practices that support the implementation of guiding principles in everyday life. While spirituality might be loosely used to refer to putting into effect the practices linking deeply held beliefs with purposeful action, there are many other meaningful labels that might be applied.
Just as Christianity requires dedicated work within oneself if it is to be effectively manifested in the world, other beliefs require intentional effort if they are to meaningfully inform practical reality. Whatever one’s culture or religion, there is a core identity beneath traditional nomenclature, cultivated irrational fears, and falsehoods about oneself and other people that have developed over time. Allowing this core identity to be expressed authentically in the world is challenging enough that some supportive practices are most likely necessary. Connecting with that core identity understandably requires some intentional effort. Especially in the context of a culture that views human beings as broken or depraved, crippling fears may even develop about the nature of that core identity. Some people may never look deeply into themselves out of fear that, deep inside, they are inherently worthless. However, one might just as easily assume that, at that deepest point of every human being, there stirs a similar desire to be free of fear, meaningfully connected with others, and contributing to a better world. There is no reason not to assume that all people are, at their very core, beings of love and hope and creativity. Individuals who believe such things about themselves and others still require a means of putting that belief into practice just as much as those who believe in human depravity and powerlessness. Perhaps it is too audacious a question to ask which perspective more clearly emulates the Jesus of the gospel narratives, but there is no question that people with divergent spiritual views can still learn something from one another, if they are willing.
Specific nomenclature and personalities characterize Christian spirituality, as is the case with most faith traditions. Although many Christians may perceive their beliefs and practices as unique to their religion, beneath the surface of theological language, the practical application of idealized Christian spirituality is quite similar to what one may find in a multitude of human spiritual and cultural contexts. As with any religion, Christianity becomes dangerous to society when its adherents insist that all people must believe as they do, and the violent and oppressive ramifications of this characteristic of religion are apparent in every period of recorded human history. If one could strip away insistence upon specific linguistic labels and bypass the separation of “Believer” and “Nonbeliever” inherent in most expressions of evangelical Christianity, however, one would find a collection of practices that support meaningful human relationships and personal integrity. Christianity’s greatest weakness is that these potentially valuable practices are used to support assertions that overshadow the gospel message of love, namely that human beings are essentially depraved, incapable of love and integrity by their own effort, and that an afterlife of reward or punishment awaits every individual, based on one’s acceptance of the mythology regarding an implausible divine being’s blood sacrifice. Should any person choose to develop the spiritual values found in Christianity apart from their basis on the supernatural, that person might gain a clearer understanding of the teachings of Jesus in the gospel narratives than many who identify themselves as “Christian.”
Foundations of (Christian) Spirituality
The key to spirituality is that it reflects intentional integration of beliefs into the practical reality of one’s life. Spirituality is not limited to a specific set of doctrines or principles. Spirituality is about purposeful action based on deeply held beliefs. People automatically act on their beliefs every day, although this action is not necessarily conscious or purposeful. Some people may even experience a certain amount of anxiety in their lives because they think they believe in a certain set of principles, while their actions reflect a different set of deeply held beliefs, of which an individual may not even be completely aware. One’s actual beliefs may even be radically different from what one wants to believe, and this can only be recognized with intentional exploration of the self. Thus, human behavior is always the result of beliefs being integrated into practical action; spirituality is the practice of making that integration intentional. When one’s life becomes a purposeful reflection of deeply held guiding principles, then life can be more fulfilling because it results in a more fully authentic expression of one’s self.
There is danger in purposefully engaging in spiritual practices without truly examining one’s beliefs. As can be seen in the fear and hatred expressed by many twenty-first century “Christians,” spiritual practices can reinforce false beliefs if one remains oblivious to the difference between irrational fear and guiding principles. Fear can seem very important and powerful, and yet it cannot have the sustainable strength of emotionally mature guiding principles. While spirituality defines the purposeful actions one takes to integrate deeply held beliefs into the practical reality of one’s life, one must also critically examine one’s beliefs to determine which beliefs are desirable and which are based on falsehoods and fears. Without a set of guiding principles that supports personal responsibility and integrity, and love and respect for other human beings, spirituality can become a very purposeful way of reinforcing irrational beliefs. In other words, if spirituality is focused passion, one should be aware and intentional about one’s passions.
Thus, while it is impossible to say exactly what is “Christian” about Christian spirituality, it can be said that spirituality is how an individual chooses to be in the world. Since spirituality is the intentional practical application of guiding principles, a secular humanist can potentially incorporate insights from any religious tradition without kowtowing to supernaturalism or the political leanings of twenty-first century religious power structures. Belief in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, for instance, is a statement of faith, since it is impossible to empirically prove such a claim. A variety of intentional practices can support such a guiding principle, and these intentional practices might look indistinguishable from what an emotionally mature religious person would choose to do in support of a set of religious beliefs. While there are potentially other descriptive labels for the connecting of guiding principles with practical actions, the term spirituality need not be confined to religious contexts.
Six Great Traditions of the Faith
While some Christians identify six traditional means of the outward expression of faith, the definitions of these means of expression require a bit of adaptation if they are to be meaningfully applied in a non-Christian context. Whereas the Holiness tradition might be defined as “purity in thoughts, words, and actions, and overcoming temptation,” the challenging words purity and temptation reflect a mental model that may not be shared by a secular humanist. However, one might re-frame Holiness as “having self-differentiated thoughts and actions, and dismantling irrational fear.” While there is most likely a more appropriate label to attach to this outward expression of emotional maturity, it undoubtedly captures the spirit of the Holiness tradition in a way that can have broader usefulness apart from a religious context.
Meaningfully translating some of the recognized traditions into a non-religious context requires little adaptation, however. People from nearly all faith traditions and cultures practice Social Justice to some extent, and while Contemplation in a Christian context implies communion with an external divine being, people have incorporated the practice of meditation and introspection in many contexts, religious and otherwise. Other traditions suffer, as the tradition of Holiness does, from alienating terminology, both in the name given to the expression itself and in the words used to describe and define it. The Charismatic tradition involves “engaging the Holy Spirit while developing and exercising one’s spiritual gifts.” While this may seem immediately dismissible to one who eschews supernaturalism, beneath the linguistic religiosity, this tradition is about recognizing and legitimizing one’s authentic self—perhaps even one’s deepest guiding principles—and nurturing and exercising one’s innate capability. Again, a less alienating label can perhaps be applied, but the ideal of the Charismatic tradition can be made useful in a non-Christian context. The same could be said of the Incarnational tradition, which also may seem immediately worthy of rejection within the context of secular humanism, given that what is presumably being made “incarnate” is overtly supernatural. Any person who strives toward emotional maturity, however, is in a sense attempting to “incarnate” deeply held intentions—to unify the intended and the actual areas of life. Put another way, emotional maturity involves learning to show forth one’s authentic self more clearly. This is, at its core, Incarnational.
While it is somewhat artificial and gratuitous to translate these traditional means of expressing faith into a non-Christian context, the value of finding common conceptual threads that connect radically different perspectives is that people learn to see one another as similar rather than Other. Specialized and alienating language is less of a barrier to harmonious relationships when the actual intentions beneath the linguistic challenges become clear. This illustrates the importance of appropriately applying the Evangelical tradition, which has been made more challenging by the appropriation of the term “evangelical” by a particularly fundamentalist, politically conservative, and socially bullying sector of American Christendom. While the term originates from the concept of sharing “good news,” many who outwardly proclaim themselves to be “evangelical” express more fear, hatred, and arrogance than anything that might be considered good news to anyone. Thus, it is perhaps even more important that those outside the Christian context become adept at framing the message of human value in a way that is filled with hope and inspiration rather than contributing to the environment of fear and anxiety. The inherent worth and dignity of every person is indeed a message of good news, and in the face of fear-mongering and claims of superiority, it is a message that is vitally important to the postmodern world.
Balance is the ideal approach to these traditional expressions of faith, according to many Christian writers on the subject. This involves being aware of how one spends time and energy and where one lacks confidence or practice. In a certain sense, by extrapolating how the biblical example of the character of Jesus embodies this aspects of faith, one could say that being “Christ-like” involves practicing all of these outward expressions of faith in equal measure. Taken from a less religious perspective, however, one sees another aspect to these traditions, as they have been provisionally reframed. Placed next to one another, the goals of these outward expressions from a more humanist perspective might be seen as: having self-differentiated thoughts and actions and overcoming irrational fear, recognizing one’s authentic self while nurturing and exercising one’s innate capabilities, spending time in introspection and meditation, honoring and caring for others, unifying the intended and actual areas of one’s life, and sharing the hopeful and inspiring news of human potential and capability while continuing to grow in knowledge and insight. This is the epitome of emotional maturity (or self-differentiation) based on the guiding principle of the inherent worth and dignity of all people. Balance is inherent in the process of recognizing one’s own worth, examining one’s guiding principles and dismantling the fear and lies that threaten to provoke anxious reactivity, and reaching out beyond oneself to acknowledge the value of other people. If one commits to living authentically, without acting based on fear or obligation, but rather out of a deep faith that human beings are capable of building a better world, personal balance in these various expressions is potentially a byproduct rather than a goal. Where there is imbalance, there is fear; dismantling fear opens the way for balance. At the same time, balance is an illusion, for each of these components will be in a constant state of fluctuation in the life of a person who is growing and becoming more emotionally mature. Any attempt to assess balance based on a static snapshot is misguided. Maintaining focus on the process of inward and outward work toward emotional maturity and authentic expression of guiding principles yields a full expression of all of the traditional Christian expressions of faith, without the limitations of Christian mythology and supernaturalism.
The Experience of Silence
Intentional growth toward emotional maturity is a process, regardless of whether one embraces any specific religious tradition. Christians and humanists alike must trust the process rather than allow it to be a further source of anxiety. Like following the path of a labyrinth toward its eventual and inevitable center, if one foot is placed in front of the other along the path, the destination is certain. Human beings cannot always be certain of the destination of their lives in terms of external circumstances, but individuals can choose to take slow and methodical steps toward greater emotional maturity. In its assertion of an afterlife, Christian thinking sometimes fails to offer practical hope. If one can do nothing to control one’s life except trust in an inscrutable, omnipotent divine being and wait for a better experience after death, then one cannot be empowered toward any meaningful growth. Likewise, if one cannot do any good except by the inner working of a divine entity beyond one’s own control, then one cannot be personally responsible for one’s contribution to the world. Humanism offers greater potential for practical hope in that it asserts the capability and responsibility of human beings for their own growth and contributions. The practice of inward stillness and silence is especially important when one’s own personally-determined guiding principles are the linchpin of a meaningful life. Where some Christians strive to trust a process of listening to and being guided by something outside of themselves (for which stillness and silence are necessary), a humanist approach can use the same practice of stillness and silence to look inward and foster deeply rooted guiding principles that allow for greater fearlessness and authenticity. One might even suggest that Christians who pray or seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit are looking to the same place for truth—deep within themselves—using a different set of terminology that reflects a lack of confidence in their own ability to answer the important questions of purpose and authenticity.
The Journey of the Intentional Life
Some stepping-stones in the Christian understanding of spiritual identity can be useful, if one is interested in incorporating them in a non-Christian context and willing to perform some radically transformative interpretation. As one example, soteriology, or the doctrine of salvation, becomes useless in a mental model that dismisses the idea of sinfulness and human depravity, but if what the Christian context calls “sin” is addressed honestly as behavior prompted by irrational fear, then salvation becomes a matter of personal responsibility. Salvation becomes emotional maturity or self-differentiation. Even the concept of a trinity of personalities within one unified deity reflects a deeper truth about human interconnectivity within a larger system. Discarding the concept of a deity does not necessitate discarding the deeper truths of human relationships.
Perhaps it is worth exploring the idea that divinity is within the individual—that references to the divine are essentially references to the deepest, most noble self within a person. Platitudes can potentially take on a much deeper meaning if this is the case. For instance, some Christians speak of presenting themselves to God (preferably in a state of holiness and blamelessness), or of belonging to God, or of being devoted to God. One might consider what it would be like to present oneself to one’s Self—to look closely at one’s real, practical, intentional identity from the perspective of one’s idealistic, value-based, deepest, most noble and creative Self. As a replacement for the question of whether one “belongs” to God, the simple question, “Am I my own?” evokes an honest examination of one’s motivations and authenticity. Perhaps one is living out of a sense of fear or obligation toward others, denying one’s own deepest guiding principles in favor of superficial acceptance or keeping the peace. If one can strive to be devoted to one’s best self, this is in many ways more compelling than being devoted to a deity about which nothing can be known with certainty and about which many people disagree.
Ultimately, even if one is devoted to God, it is only one’s own concept of God to which one can be devoted. Being devoted to one’s deepest, most noble self is a powerful concept that would be difficult in many iterations of Christian spirituality due to a belief that people are wicked, broken, or damaged. If people are, at their core, incapable and unworthy, then anything good in a person must be considered to come from something outside of the person, and thus there is nothing within a person worthy of devotion. However, if people are recognized as innately capable of love, joy, peace, goodness, compassion, gentleness, and self-control, then these qualities can be seen as the fruits of their true nature, not some alien influence on their lives. Thus, where some Christian spiritual ideas make things immensely more complicated than necessary and abdicate personal worth and responsibility, the same concepts can be put to meaningful use in a non-Christian context which values people—or, as some might concede, a context which sees people as the character of Jesus in the gospel narratives does.
One challenge to the statement of faith that all people have inherent value is that it ultimately leads to a disintegration of tribalism, and human beings seem incredibly adept at distinguishing between “Us” and “Them.” Christianity has not managed to overcome tribalism; in fact, Protestantism has exacerbated tribalism within Christianity, finding reasons to build walls and corral people at every turn. The challenge of biblical love is no different from the challenge of humanism, however. While many would look at the commandment to “love one another,” as an insular order regarding how people within a faith community were to treat other people within that same faith community, this limitation is not reflected in the biblical depiction of Jesus. While it is true that the rain falls on the righteous and the unrighteous, the delineation inherent in the statement is unnecessary. Rain falls on people; the sun shines on people. The biblical call to love “one another” is, in essence, the very core of how a humanist vision of transformation must be founded. While the Christian church has not lived up to its own guiding principle very well in this regard, the implication of biblical love is that there is no “Them;” there is only one big “Us.” There is no human system in the world that cannot benefit from a more intentional application of this ideal.
Fear is the enemy of “Us.” Irrational fear of people who are in some way distinguishable from how individuals see themselves leads to behaviors that damage society. In the same way, irrational fears lead individuals to do things that are harmful to themselves. What Christian spirituality considers to be “deadly thoughts” are prime examples of this irrational fear, as well as the falsehoods that people develop throughout their lives. Gluttony and greed are expressions of the fear of scarcity. Misplaced anger is reactivity out of emotional immaturity. Envy, pride, lust, and indifference are all expressions of disconnection from, or devaluing of, one’s true self. Similarly, the virtues that are said to serve as counterparts to these “deadly thoughts” are various expressions of recognizing one’s value as a human being, striving for emotional maturity, and engaging with one’s guiding principles. Temperance, mildness, generosity, happiness, humility, chastity, diligence, and wisdom are all results that stem naturally from emotional maturity and honest self-evaluation. While it is valuable to consider where irrational fears and false beliefs originated, it is more important to continually return within to confirm one’s deep guiding principles and strive to unite these principles with the practical reality of daily life. One need not itemize virtues and “deadly thoughts,” but if it is helpful to an individual in recognizing areas in which fears and lies are prevalent, then even the distinctions of Christian tradition can serve as a starting point for honest self-evaluation.
In order to move closer to God, to express biblical love more effectively, and to shift from “deadly thoughts” toward their respective virtues, Christian spirituality considers a selection of behaviors—or disciplines—useful. Similar sets of meaningful habits may be useful for individuals seeking to break away from behaviors that do not reflect innermost values, or to commit oneself to developing behaviors that are more in alignment with deeply held guiding principles. While praying to something outside of oneself makes no sense in a humanist context, the practice of meditation and introspection has already been lifted up as a necessary piece of developing emotional maturity and engaging in honest self-assessment. Study is an equally important component of growth, especially considering the Christian inclusion in this discipline of studying the natural world and the careful observation of systems. While fasting may be helpful in terms of developing self-discipline, a more worthwhile exercise might be to consider why one is particularly drawn toward something that does not match with one’s guiding principles. Self-denial without self-examination is empty.
In fact, many of the spiritual disciplines regarded as beneficial in terms of Christian spirituality can be expressed in terms that have already been outlined: regarding all people (including oneself) as valuable necessarily leads toward certain types of behavior, and it is necessary for an individual to engage in consistent self-examination to verify that personal actions reflect guiding principles. This self-examination is a profoundly important discipline that many people neglect. If one does not truly understand one’s own beliefs, then one can never honestly explain one’s own actions. The entire process of looking within and maintaining one’s connection to self, then looking without and acting intentionally in the world is a disciplined way of being as well. In many ways, this process is counter-cultural and requires recognition of the vulnerability inherent in human existence. If approached from a humanist perspective, the process of building emotional maturity requires wrestling with difficult questions about oneself, other people, and life itself, with the added challenge that supernatural or doctrinally based answers are not satisfactory. A disciplined approach to such wrestling is necessary to continue seeking and applying meaningful answers in everyday life.
Conclusion
Just as Christianity requires dedicated work within oneself if it is to be effectively manifested in the world, other beliefs require intentional effort if they are to meaningfully inform practical reality. Whatever one’s culture or religion, there is a core identity beneath traditional nomenclature, cultivated irrational fears, and falsehoods about oneself and other people that have developed over time. Allowing this core identity to be expressed authentically in the world is challenging enough that some supportive practices are most likely necessary. Connecting with that core identity understandably requires some intentional effort. Especially in the context of a culture that views human beings as broken or depraved, crippling fears may even develop about the nature of that core identity. Some people may never look deeply into themselves out of fear that, deep inside, they are inherently worthless. However, one might just as easily assume that, at that deepest point of every human being, there stirs a similar desire to be free of fear, meaningfully connected with others, and contributing to a better world. There is no reason not to assume that all people are, at their very core, beings of love and hope and creativity. Individuals who believe such things about themselves and others still require a means of putting that belief into practice just as much as those who believe in human depravity and powerlessness. Perhaps it is too audacious a question to ask which perspective more clearly emulates the Jesus of the gospel narratives, but there is no question that people with divergent spiritual views can still learn something from one another, if they are willing.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Joshua 2-6: When Divine Inspiration Gets Sidetracked by Fear
About half of the book of Joshua is folklore about how incredibly successful this man was as a military leader when the Israelites were slaughtering innocent people and taking their land, wealth, and communities. It's difficult for rational people to look upon some of the content as factually viable, since the stories include things like the sun standing still for a day and such. That being said, there is powerful allegorical value in these stories, particularly the first and most highly developed story about the fall of Jericho. These Old Testament stories were written from the standpoint that the Israelites were better than everyone else because God said so, and all the other people who were living in the area around the Jordan River at the time were expendable because they weren't chosen by God. It isn't a stretch from that perspective to draw "spiritual" lessons from the story about trusting God and overcoming enemies through faith. But what if one approaches from a different set of assumptions?
If we start from the belief that all human life is valuable, that people are worthy of respect regardless of their beliefs, Joshua's acts seem deplorable. The Israelites' actions dehumanize their enemies. If we start from a belief in abundance rather than scarcity, it seems at the very least misguided to drive off or kill people just to claim their resources. Yet we still haven't outgrown that behavior in some respects. And if we start from a belief that houses the character of the divine within every human being, Joshua's actions are inspired, representative of the kind of creativity available to any of us if we are willing to tap into our internal resources and trust ourselves. The problem is not with Joshua's outlandish tactics, it's with the fear he entertains regarding the people of Jericho.
One challenge in reading or hearing any sort of story as adults is that we typically have a set of beliefs in place before we determine what the story has to offer. Our opinions of any new information are based on what we already believe about the world, other people, and ourselves. It is nearly impossible for us to approach new information with a truly open mind, free from any beliefs about reality. For many people who grew up in a Christian context, biblical stories were even used to help frame our beliefs about the world, other people, and ourselves, but we weren't really able to understand the nuances of the stories beyond what adults were telling us to believe. As adults, we have the opportunity to reassess our beliefs and to re-contextualize the stories we know or encounter anew.
If it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then we are capable of doing incredible things when we push past the layers of fear that have accumulated over time and embrace that truth, beauty, and creativity within us. With calm patience, we can collapse seemingly insurmountable obstacles that would hold firm in the face of the greatest display of force. Our strength is not in our ability to be violent, but in our ability to be intentional. What happens after the walls come down and we are granted access to new territory, though?
Once again, if it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then this truth should inform all of our dealings with other people. When we seek to do harm to others, we are harming a system of which we ourselves are a part. We cannot bring violence to other people without doing some harm to our own identities and well-being. Honestly, our only reason for intending harm toward others is fear, and that fear is almost always irrational. In Joshua's case, there were likely manifold fears that prevented him from seeing the divinity in the people he conquered. He was afraid that his culture could be corrupted, that his people were too weak to hold to their beliefs in the face of alternative practices. He was afraid of death at the hands of the defenders of the cities the Israelites were assaulting. He was afraid of how his people would see him, whether they would hail him as a hero or reject his authority. Understandable fears, but unnecessary fears.
Joshua is a character of fiction, a bit of folklore to build cultural identity for an ancient people. But we experience fears that may seem insignificant by comparison to a leader of an entire society, and those fears still manage to derail our creativity and inspiration. We fear what people will think of us, and we fear what people will do to us. We fear things about ourselves as well, that we will be found out, revealed as imposters or weaklings. We fear that we have to fight for survival, that we have to defend ourselves at every turn. We learned to fear from a variety of sources, and we have practiced that fear until it frames our reality. We have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and inspiration in the world around us, and we have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and creativity within ourselves. The more ingrained the fear, the more dismantling we need to do to see what is true.
Dismantling fear is easier said than done. Even the prospect of it brings up a whole new onslaught of fears. Our entire society is addicted to fear, and the thought of disregarding fear is counter-cultural to say the least. It will not happen all at once, but as we are willing to see our own beauty and creativity, and as we are willing to see the beauty and inspiration in others, we will build confidence in that truth. We can bring the walls down with confidence and discover ways to make the world a better place rather than a more violent one. We can create a life that serves our most noble intentions rather than our most fearful ones.
The message of Joshua is a cautionary tale. We have within us immense power. When we tap into that divine essence, we can find inspiration to do incredible things in our lives and in the lives of other people. But when we unleash that power out of fear, we can destroy instead of create. We court the power of judgment and death instead of bringing hope and life. We are capable of either path. The difference is that when we identify ourselves as destroyers, we act in defiance of our true nature. The fear that convinces us that destruction is the only option will never bring us satisfaction, peace, happiness. That fear will always be restless. But we are not destroyers. That is not our identity as human beings, no matter what we have been led to believe or what we have accepted as reality. We are creators. At our core we are capable, strong, life-affirming creators. To deny that is to deny our humanity.
If we start from the belief that all human life is valuable, that people are worthy of respect regardless of their beliefs, Joshua's acts seem deplorable. The Israelites' actions dehumanize their enemies. If we start from a belief in abundance rather than scarcity, it seems at the very least misguided to drive off or kill people just to claim their resources. Yet we still haven't outgrown that behavior in some respects. And if we start from a belief that houses the character of the divine within every human being, Joshua's actions are inspired, representative of the kind of creativity available to any of us if we are willing to tap into our internal resources and trust ourselves. The problem is not with Joshua's outlandish tactics, it's with the fear he entertains regarding the people of Jericho.
One challenge in reading or hearing any sort of story as adults is that we typically have a set of beliefs in place before we determine what the story has to offer. Our opinions of any new information are based on what we already believe about the world, other people, and ourselves. It is nearly impossible for us to approach new information with a truly open mind, free from any beliefs about reality. For many people who grew up in a Christian context, biblical stories were even used to help frame our beliefs about the world, other people, and ourselves, but we weren't really able to understand the nuances of the stories beyond what adults were telling us to believe. As adults, we have the opportunity to reassess our beliefs and to re-contextualize the stories we know or encounter anew.
If it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then we are capable of doing incredible things when we push past the layers of fear that have accumulated over time and embrace that truth, beauty, and creativity within us. With calm patience, we can collapse seemingly insurmountable obstacles that would hold firm in the face of the greatest display of force. Our strength is not in our ability to be violent, but in our ability to be intentional. What happens after the walls come down and we are granted access to new territory, though?
Once again, if it is true that all human beings hold within themselves the deep truth, beauty, and creativity that we associate with the character of the divine, then this truth should inform all of our dealings with other people. When we seek to do harm to others, we are harming a system of which we ourselves are a part. We cannot bring violence to other people without doing some harm to our own identities and well-being. Honestly, our only reason for intending harm toward others is fear, and that fear is almost always irrational. In Joshua's case, there were likely manifold fears that prevented him from seeing the divinity in the people he conquered. He was afraid that his culture could be corrupted, that his people were too weak to hold to their beliefs in the face of alternative practices. He was afraid of death at the hands of the defenders of the cities the Israelites were assaulting. He was afraid of how his people would see him, whether they would hail him as a hero or reject his authority. Understandable fears, but unnecessary fears.
Joshua is a character of fiction, a bit of folklore to build cultural identity for an ancient people. But we experience fears that may seem insignificant by comparison to a leader of an entire society, and those fears still manage to derail our creativity and inspiration. We fear what people will think of us, and we fear what people will do to us. We fear things about ourselves as well, that we will be found out, revealed as imposters or weaklings. We fear that we have to fight for survival, that we have to defend ourselves at every turn. We learned to fear from a variety of sources, and we have practiced that fear until it frames our reality. We have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and inspiration in the world around us, and we have to look beyond that fear to see the truth and beauty and creativity within ourselves. The more ingrained the fear, the more dismantling we need to do to see what is true.
Dismantling fear is easier said than done. Even the prospect of it brings up a whole new onslaught of fears. Our entire society is addicted to fear, and the thought of disregarding fear is counter-cultural to say the least. It will not happen all at once, but as we are willing to see our own beauty and creativity, and as we are willing to see the beauty and inspiration in others, we will build confidence in that truth. We can bring the walls down with confidence and discover ways to make the world a better place rather than a more violent one. We can create a life that serves our most noble intentions rather than our most fearful ones.
The message of Joshua is a cautionary tale. We have within us immense power. When we tap into that divine essence, we can find inspiration to do incredible things in our lives and in the lives of other people. But when we unleash that power out of fear, we can destroy instead of create. We court the power of judgment and death instead of bringing hope and life. We are capable of either path. The difference is that when we identify ourselves as destroyers, we act in defiance of our true nature. The fear that convinces us that destruction is the only option will never bring us satisfaction, peace, happiness. That fear will always be restless. But we are not destroyers. That is not our identity as human beings, no matter what we have been led to believe or what we have accepted as reality. We are creators. At our core we are capable, strong, life-affirming creators. To deny that is to deny our humanity.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Why the Concept of Scriptural Inerrancy Is a Matter of Faith and Not Evidence
There are those who believe that the Bible is true, and there are those who believe that the Bible is not true. Among these groups, there are a number of refinements that can be made. Sometimes beliefs form out of an opinion regarding one specific aspect of scriptural content. Some may think that the miracle stories are far-fetched, or that the creation story is not to be taken literally, but they think the historical and geographic record is more or less based on fact. Incidentally, this is the camp where I usually place myself. Some who claim that the Bible is true mean more or less the same thing, except that they probably believe in the divinity of Jesus and the validity of the resurrection. In fact, many times when people say that the Bible is true or not true, they are really expressing their belief about one very specific event in the Bible: the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus.
Many Christians understand that this is a matter of faith. One cannot prove much about even the existence of Jesus, since there is so little trustworthy information about him outside of the scripture. If something is a matter of faith, then by definition it must be believed without concrete proof, and many people of faith understand this. It causes some problems when believers insist that other people believe the same things they do, at which point having convincing evidence makes a bit more of a difference.
Thus the “truth” of the Bible enters a prominent place in the discussion. Some people determined that if the Bible was accepted as absolutely true, then there should be no question about the existence, divinity, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus, nor should there be any doubt about the need for salvation and the gift of grace. Likewise, if any part of the Bible is seen as fantastical or outright falsehood, then the value of the passion story is potentially jeopardized. It is as if faith needs at least some supporting facts for some people. Thus, every time an archaeologist makes a discovery that coincides with a Biblical account of geography, some of these proponents of scriptural inerrancy claim, “See, the Bible is true! Every last bit of it.”
There are some problems with the concept of scriptural inerrancy, and the biggest problem is the absolutism of the idea. If one part of a story is factually accurate, one cannot assume that the entire tale is factually accurate. Suppose I told you that there is a Recognized Bank building on the corner of Willow Avenue and Market Street, and on the 12th floor of that bank building, there is a law office. In that law office, there works a secretary who is a vampire, and she keeps blood packets in the break room. With just my story to go on, you might think, “There’s no such thing as vampires, this story can’t possibly be true.” But, when you drive past the corner of Willow Avenue and Market Street and see the big Recognized Bank building, do you then suddenly believe the whole thing? Do you accept that there is a vampire working in a law office on the 12th floor of that building, just because you have verified one aspect of my story?
You wouldn’t have to accept it as true, of course. You could look into the matter. You could go to the 12th floor and see if there was a law office there. You could examine the secretary. You could investigate the break room. If any part of my story is false, it doesn’t erase the fact that the building is exactly where I claimed it to be. It is completely plausible that one fact in my story checks out and another detail turns out to be false. So proving one fact that was recorded in the Bible only proves that one specific fact. It does nothing to prove any other scriptural claim.
“Ah,” some might say, “but we have verified the trustworthiness of the writer. If he is right about one fact, why should we doubt the rest of what he wrote?” (Yes, I think some people may have slept right through the vampire secretary example.) Which scriptural writer are we to trust, exactly? The biblical canon was composed over a number of generations by a number of different people, and the decision about what to include or leave out of the Bible was made hundreds of years later by a completely different group of men (at the Council of Trent in the 16th century). There is no one writer for us to trust, even if it made sense to think that a person’s story is more trustworthy because they placed it in San Diego rather than Gotham City. Sure, San Diego exists, but that doesn’t mean that every story placed in San Diego is true.
Aside from the historical accuracy argument, there are really no other logical principles on which scriptural inerrancy is based. Some would say that the Bible claims to be true, and therefore it must be, because God cannot lie. This entirely self-referential argument cannot be accepted as evidence to anyone seeking any kind of proof. One cannot verify the accuracy of a written document simply by virtue of an author’s claim. In fact, every so often, a new book catches everyone’s attention because of the revealing “insider” details it contains, and everyone is equally disappointed to learn that the author made up most of the story. Anyone who needs the Bible to be infallible or inerrant in order for their faith to be bolstered would surely understand the problem of a self-referential justification.
Claiming the Bible to be absolutely and completely true based on church history and tradition isn’t any better. This is really just a self-referential argument by proxy. It would be like your friend telling you about the vampire secretary and claiming that it was true because he heard from a trustworthy source. You may trust your friend, and your friend may trust the story’s source, but if there is no way to check a source other than blind trust, then we are talking about faith, not provability.
The only claim that makes any sense with regard to Biblical inerrancy is one that does not attempt to convince anyone else. There is nothing wrong with a believer who claims, “I believe that the Bible is completely true.” If personal experience and reason have led an individual to a statement of faith—belief in something which cannot be proven—that is a matter of personal choice. No one else need accept that belief in order for it to have value, and no archeological discovery can strengthen or weaken a determined belief. Only the individual can determine the criteria by which to accept or reject the validity of spiritual writings, and those criteria don’t need to have the same meaning for anyone else.
Ultimately, a belief in scriptural inerrancy is entirely a matter of faith. If one actually looks closely enough at scriptures, one is confronted with some inconsistencies. While this may not bother someone looking for the spiritual truth underlying the words, when someone needs for the text to be completely accurate, it presents a problem. On the matter of spiritual truth, one must also deal with how to interpret what is written. One must be discerning to know when people claim to speak biblical truth that they are not actually conveying a personal interpretation. There is no “one truth” of the Bible, no absolutely correct way to interpret what is written on its pages. If it were so, then Christians would be united under one banner instead of bickering back and forth among and within various denominations and factions.
My perspective in writing this sequence of scriptural interpretations is not to prove or disprove anything, although I will state clearly that I do not believe that the Bible is entirely accurate or trustworthy. I approach it with a skeptical lens, to be sure, and at the same time I want to see what is spiritually valid and appropriate for our time. The Bible provides a spiritual jumping off point, because it is familiar to me and to so many other people. What I write is what I see as truth, in the hopes that I will inspire other people to think for themselves and discover or claim a deeper truth for their lives, even if their truth is different from mine.
Many Christians understand that this is a matter of faith. One cannot prove much about even the existence of Jesus, since there is so little trustworthy information about him outside of the scripture. If something is a matter of faith, then by definition it must be believed without concrete proof, and many people of faith understand this. It causes some problems when believers insist that other people believe the same things they do, at which point having convincing evidence makes a bit more of a difference.
Thus the “truth” of the Bible enters a prominent place in the discussion. Some people determined that if the Bible was accepted as absolutely true, then there should be no question about the existence, divinity, crucifixion, and resurrection of Jesus, nor should there be any doubt about the need for salvation and the gift of grace. Likewise, if any part of the Bible is seen as fantastical or outright falsehood, then the value of the passion story is potentially jeopardized. It is as if faith needs at least some supporting facts for some people. Thus, every time an archaeologist makes a discovery that coincides with a Biblical account of geography, some of these proponents of scriptural inerrancy claim, “See, the Bible is true! Every last bit of it.”
There are some problems with the concept of scriptural inerrancy, and the biggest problem is the absolutism of the idea. If one part of a story is factually accurate, one cannot assume that the entire tale is factually accurate. Suppose I told you that there is a Recognized Bank building on the corner of Willow Avenue and Market Street, and on the 12th floor of that bank building, there is a law office. In that law office, there works a secretary who is a vampire, and she keeps blood packets in the break room. With just my story to go on, you might think, “There’s no such thing as vampires, this story can’t possibly be true.” But, when you drive past the corner of Willow Avenue and Market Street and see the big Recognized Bank building, do you then suddenly believe the whole thing? Do you accept that there is a vampire working in a law office on the 12th floor of that building, just because you have verified one aspect of my story?
You wouldn’t have to accept it as true, of course. You could look into the matter. You could go to the 12th floor and see if there was a law office there. You could examine the secretary. You could investigate the break room. If any part of my story is false, it doesn’t erase the fact that the building is exactly where I claimed it to be. It is completely plausible that one fact in my story checks out and another detail turns out to be false. So proving one fact that was recorded in the Bible only proves that one specific fact. It does nothing to prove any other scriptural claim.
“Ah,” some might say, “but we have verified the trustworthiness of the writer. If he is right about one fact, why should we doubt the rest of what he wrote?” (Yes, I think some people may have slept right through the vampire secretary example.) Which scriptural writer are we to trust, exactly? The biblical canon was composed over a number of generations by a number of different people, and the decision about what to include or leave out of the Bible was made hundreds of years later by a completely different group of men (at the Council of Trent in the 16th century). There is no one writer for us to trust, even if it made sense to think that a person’s story is more trustworthy because they placed it in San Diego rather than Gotham City. Sure, San Diego exists, but that doesn’t mean that every story placed in San Diego is true.
Aside from the historical accuracy argument, there are really no other logical principles on which scriptural inerrancy is based. Some would say that the Bible claims to be true, and therefore it must be, because God cannot lie. This entirely self-referential argument cannot be accepted as evidence to anyone seeking any kind of proof. One cannot verify the accuracy of a written document simply by virtue of an author’s claim. In fact, every so often, a new book catches everyone’s attention because of the revealing “insider” details it contains, and everyone is equally disappointed to learn that the author made up most of the story. Anyone who needs the Bible to be infallible or inerrant in order for their faith to be bolstered would surely understand the problem of a self-referential justification.
Claiming the Bible to be absolutely and completely true based on church history and tradition isn’t any better. This is really just a self-referential argument by proxy. It would be like your friend telling you about the vampire secretary and claiming that it was true because he heard from a trustworthy source. You may trust your friend, and your friend may trust the story’s source, but if there is no way to check a source other than blind trust, then we are talking about faith, not provability.
The only claim that makes any sense with regard to Biblical inerrancy is one that does not attempt to convince anyone else. There is nothing wrong with a believer who claims, “I believe that the Bible is completely true.” If personal experience and reason have led an individual to a statement of faith—belief in something which cannot be proven—that is a matter of personal choice. No one else need accept that belief in order for it to have value, and no archeological discovery can strengthen or weaken a determined belief. Only the individual can determine the criteria by which to accept or reject the validity of spiritual writings, and those criteria don’t need to have the same meaning for anyone else.
Ultimately, a belief in scriptural inerrancy is entirely a matter of faith. If one actually looks closely enough at scriptures, one is confronted with some inconsistencies. While this may not bother someone looking for the spiritual truth underlying the words, when someone needs for the text to be completely accurate, it presents a problem. On the matter of spiritual truth, one must also deal with how to interpret what is written. One must be discerning to know when people claim to speak biblical truth that they are not actually conveying a personal interpretation. There is no “one truth” of the Bible, no absolutely correct way to interpret what is written on its pages. If it were so, then Christians would be united under one banner instead of bickering back and forth among and within various denominations and factions.
My perspective in writing this sequence of scriptural interpretations is not to prove or disprove anything, although I will state clearly that I do not believe that the Bible is entirely accurate or trustworthy. I approach it with a skeptical lens, to be sure, and at the same time I want to see what is spiritually valid and appropriate for our time. The Bible provides a spiritual jumping off point, because it is familiar to me and to so many other people. What I write is what I see as truth, in the hopes that I will inspire other people to think for themselves and discover or claim a deeper truth for their lives, even if their truth is different from mine.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Freedom of Religious Thought
When I wrote a recent article Why Christians Should Back Down on Gay Marriage, I addressed some of the fallacies underneath the biblical reasons that some Conservative Christians offer against same-sex marriage. Although I didn't address any social or political arguments directly, I did receive some feedback about why some Christians believe that their rights are being threatened in the gay marriage debate. The fear is essentially, "By seeking the right to marry, homosexuals are trying to take away our right to define marriage the way we want to."
Since I've seen and heard this kind of thinking in multiple places, I want to address it seriously. People everywhere have the freedom to believe whatever they want. There are limitations on how those beliefs can be legally expressed, but no one can take away your freedom to believe something. If I believe that Barry Manilow is the greatest singer in the world, no one can deprive me of that belief. I can listen to Barry in the privacy of my own home, on my iPod at the gym, and while I'm driving around town, and there's no problem. When I decide that I can play Barry at 2 a.m. loud enough for the whole neighborhood to enjoy him, suddenly there's a problem. Other people have rights and freedoms, too. I don't have the freedom to make other people listen to Barry Manilow just because I believe he's the greatest singer in the world. (This is all hypothetical, you understand.)
If I define marriage as being exclusively between one man and one woman, that really only has an impact on my life. It informs what my relationships will look like, and it might inform the people with whom I form close friendships. But I don't get to decide what everyone else's marriage will look like. I may think everyone should eat 13 servings of vegetables a day, but that doesn't mean I get to weigh in on everyone else's diet. If someone else defines marriage or their ideal diet differently from me, what impact does that actually have on my life? As long as they aren't forcing me to live my life by a different set of beliefs, they don't actually threaten my beliefs at all.
There can still be an impact when I witness someone living out a different belief than I have. If I see someone eating a diet that I consider unhealthy, or when I see someone allowing their children to behave in a way that annoys me, or when I see someone in a different kind of relationship than what I have, my beliefs may be challenged. Beliefs can be challenged without actually being threatened. Vegans don't actually threaten the diets of carnivorous people, but they may present a challenge to people who don't give their food choices much thought. When beliefs are challenged, two things can happen: A person either develops deeper conviction or broadens their view of what is acceptable. Either result is growth. So challenge is a good thing.
No matter how deep one's conviction, though, one person's belief does not grant power over how another person lives. That really is alright. Vegans don't really threaten butchers, Atheists don't really threaten the church, and homosexuals who want to marry don't really threaten the heterosexual lifestyle. Everyone has the right to believe what they choose to believe, and the freedom to live out that belief in their own lives, as long as doing so doesn't harm anyone else.
Although I don't plan to make same-sex marriage a frequent issue for this venue, it's obviously a huge issue in the U.S. touching on religious freedom, tolerance, and human rights. Should you want to read up on it yourself, a profound amount of information on all sides of the argument is available at http://www.religioustolerance.org/hom_marr_menu.htm.
Since I've seen and heard this kind of thinking in multiple places, I want to address it seriously. People everywhere have the freedom to believe whatever they want. There are limitations on how those beliefs can be legally expressed, but no one can take away your freedom to believe something. If I believe that Barry Manilow is the greatest singer in the world, no one can deprive me of that belief. I can listen to Barry in the privacy of my own home, on my iPod at the gym, and while I'm driving around town, and there's no problem. When I decide that I can play Barry at 2 a.m. loud enough for the whole neighborhood to enjoy him, suddenly there's a problem. Other people have rights and freedoms, too. I don't have the freedom to make other people listen to Barry Manilow just because I believe he's the greatest singer in the world. (This is all hypothetical, you understand.)
If I define marriage as being exclusively between one man and one woman, that really only has an impact on my life. It informs what my relationships will look like, and it might inform the people with whom I form close friendships. But I don't get to decide what everyone else's marriage will look like. I may think everyone should eat 13 servings of vegetables a day, but that doesn't mean I get to weigh in on everyone else's diet. If someone else defines marriage or their ideal diet differently from me, what impact does that actually have on my life? As long as they aren't forcing me to live my life by a different set of beliefs, they don't actually threaten my beliefs at all.
There can still be an impact when I witness someone living out a different belief than I have. If I see someone eating a diet that I consider unhealthy, or when I see someone allowing their children to behave in a way that annoys me, or when I see someone in a different kind of relationship than what I have, my beliefs may be challenged. Beliefs can be challenged without actually being threatened. Vegans don't actually threaten the diets of carnivorous people, but they may present a challenge to people who don't give their food choices much thought. When beliefs are challenged, two things can happen: A person either develops deeper conviction or broadens their view of what is acceptable. Either result is growth. So challenge is a good thing.
No matter how deep one's conviction, though, one person's belief does not grant power over how another person lives. That really is alright. Vegans don't really threaten butchers, Atheists don't really threaten the church, and homosexuals who want to marry don't really threaten the heterosexual lifestyle. Everyone has the right to believe what they choose to believe, and the freedom to live out that belief in their own lives, as long as doing so doesn't harm anyone else.
Although I don't plan to make same-sex marriage a frequent issue for this venue, it's obviously a huge issue in the U.S. touching on religious freedom, tolerance, and human rights. Should you want to read up on it yourself, a profound amount of information on all sides of the argument is available at http://www.religioustolerance.org/hom_marr_menu.htm.
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