Sometimes it seems like some people just want to be argumentative, that some people interpret words in a way that intentionally fails to grasp their meaning. Maybe some people are just set in their ways, or maybe some people are just a little more dense than I'd hoped. We get a sense of the frustration we all probably feel when someone seems to intentionally misunderstand us toward the end of John 8. It is as if the crowd has never heard of metaphor. Of course, the whole conversation may be contrived by the authors of John to demonstrate a particular point. Remember, the book was written at least 60 years after this conversation would have taken place, if it even took place outside of the authors' minds. So, let's assume that the back-and-forth arguing here is didactic and not a debate between two equally strong perspectives.
What does that leave us with? First of all, it leaves us with some terminology that may need a bit of interpretation. Sin, for instance, is not a terribly useful word, especially since it has been so connected to shame. Shame doesn't create anything worthwhile. Personally, when I see the word sin, I interpret it as fear or reactions prompted by fear.
Likewise, I have previously interpreted God and its synonyms as a deepest, most noble self -- a natural part of what it means to be human rather than an external supernatural. Your deepest, most noble self is the seat of your values and guiding principles, and the fountainhead of your vision of a best possible version of yourself. Scandalous though this still is to some people, I began this entire endeavor locating the idea of divinity within people, so this is just an extension of that basic principle.
With these interpretations in place, then, we see a few ideas put forth. Truth leads to freedom. Everyone is potentially enslaved by their fear and reactivity. Following the example of Jesus (as he is depicted in John) places truth over fear. At the same time, fear is habitual, and the habit of personal fear is reinforced by societal fear.
Sometimes we reject the truth because we don't like it -- which is to say that we are afraid of its implications. We are afraid of the consequences of accepting the truth. We are afraid of the changes we may have to make or the work we may have to do if we are honest. In other words, we are sometimes afraid of being uncomfortable and unsettled. The reason we have these fears is that we are not connected to our deepest values and guiding principles. We are operating on autopilot instead of living intentionally.
Now, the authors of John have the crowd respond with an unrelated ad hominem attack, the clumsy tactics of an amateur debater. "Isn't it true that you're a crazy immigrant!?" We still hear such "clever" attacks by people who don't want to engage with challenging ideas. As human beings, it's often very important to us that we are right. We have a lot riding on being right, especially about how we live our lives. It's easier to undermine the character of someone with challenging ideas than it is to honestly engage in those ideas. The response of the Jesus character to the attack is clear and direct: "You're insulting me, but you're not hearing me." If we're assuming that the Jesus character is in the story as an exemplar, we might do well to envision him as remaining calm in the midst of the desperate accusations. We can see this response as an example of emotional maturity.
Time and again, the crowd refuses to consider the possible truth of what they hear. They interpret literally what could be taken as metaphor. They actively refuse to listen or consider the merit of a message they don't expect. Eventually, the crowd in the story responds with violence, a reaction even less mature than name-calling. They are so desperate to cling to their perspective, so unwilling to consider the possibility that they have some learning and growing to do, that they lash out at the messenger of truth.
We are sometimes the crowd. We are sometimes so set in our perspective that we are hostile toward anything that doesn't seem to agree with our view of the world. Even when we could easily find common ground, we listen to our fear instead and choose some pretty clumsy and desperate tactics to defend and preserve our way of thinking. When we do this, we are being willfully dishonest. We make ourselves liars. Our fear does not lead us to behave according to our deepest values. Our fear suggests that those values can't have priority when there is a more serious threat -- a clear and present danger. The problem is that truth is not a legitimate threat. Truth is what sets us free from our fear.
This is not to say that every idea is worthy of merit, or even that our perspectives are completely wrong or misguided. When we consider another perspective calmly and honestly weigh it against our own perspective, we might walk away from that engagement with unaltered views. We don't have to attack people's character or get violent. Truth will win out. If we are afraid of the truth, especially if we are afraid of the truth to the point that we are considering doing something harmful to another human being, we need to examine that. If we are already being honest, then we don't have to worry about it. We can express our views honestly and calmly without needing anyone to agree with us, and we can listen deeply to the views of others without feeling offended that someone believes something different from us.
Fear is powerful, though. And it's understandable that we are scared of truth that prompts us to grow or change from what has become comfortable. It takes personal discipline to value honesty over fear, and we may need to practice that for awhile before it becomes our habit. Here is what this passage suggests as a possible way to get better at valuing honesty over fear:
Be clear about your guiding principles -- the values that you most want to govern your life -- and live with integrity to those principles. A wise person would consider love first and foremost among those values. If you do this, you'll be able to live more honestly, and truth will free you from fear.
Everyone who experiences fear or anxiety knows that it can take control if you aren't careful. You become a slave to your fear when your fear governs your decisions. There's no way to live out your values with integrity when you're controlled by fear. At least, not with any consistency. If you are free from your fear because you know your deep values -- because you know what you want to stand for in your life -- then you'll have power over your fear. You'll have an actual skill that you can use to live into a best possible version of yourself.
This isn't easy. We want to see ourselves as good people who aren't governed by fear. Yet, we often don't want to hear the truth. We are often afraid of challenges to our way of seeing things. We know our values and we have a sense of the kind of people we want to be, but we don't always live up to that vision of ourselves. That's something we often don't want to admit. We are of two minds. We want to live by our values, and we are afraid of all manner of things.
If we had strong connection with our deepest, most noble selves, we would embrace the truth with love and calmness. The truth resonates with our deepest, most noble selves. We know deep down inside that we are capable of adapting and changing as we learn more. If we are honest about things, we would have to admit that letting our fear control us is a choice that we make. It seems easier perhaps, or it seems necessary in order to preserve our sense of comfort. Yet, so much of our fear is based on lies. We wind up believing things that aren't true about ourselves and other people. How can we embrace truth if we are defending the lies that prop up our fear?
It may sound crazy, but we have to let go of the death grip that we have on our perspective if we want to live into our values. Our values have to be sharpened by truth, not by lies. Our deepest values lead us toward contributing to the greatest good for the greatest number of people. Fear can't do that. Lies can't do that. We have the opportunity to experience life fully, and to have a lasting influence on the world. If we want to do that -- if we want to really live -- we have to focus on truth more than we do on fear. The path to living fully is to trust the vision we have of a best possible version of ourselves, and to continually temper that vision with honesty.
A Little Experiment: Ad hominem. Notice this week when someone (maybe even you) attacks a person's character rather than addressing their message. What about the message makes it seem unsafe? Is there some truth in the message that is avoided by attacking the messenger?
Another Little Experiment: Honesty. We are in the habit of telling "little white lies" all the time. Whether we realize it or not, this is an attempt to protect ourselves from what we think will be painful consequences of telling the truth. When you are tempted to be dishonest this week, challenge yourself to be honest. You can still be tactful and sensitive to other people. Just don't lie. Are the consequences as bad as you thought they would be?
One More Little Experiment: Sharpening. By now, you've had a lot of encouragement to clarify your guiding principles and values. Go over them carefully this week. Are any of those values or principles based on a subtle fear about yourself or other people? Is there a way that you can reframe or reword those principles so that they don't reinforce those fears?
(This is one reason that living into a best possible version of ourselves is a journey: We constantly have opportunities to refine what we are doing and who we are being.)
Showing posts with label violent behavior. Show all posts
Showing posts with label violent behavior. Show all posts
Monday, January 12, 2015
Monday, November 26, 2012
1 Kings 1-2: Violence. Easy, Base, Fearful, Primal Violence (and hope for a wiser and more noble future)
One of the primary themes in The Godfather is the infectious spread of violence when a person is willing to kill another in order to make life a little easier. Once dishonorable man thinks, "Why should I negotiate with someone or make less of a profit from my shady dealings when I could just remove the obstacle altogether with a bit of murder?" From there, a cycle of vengeance costs many lives. In one scene, Michael Corleone is walking through an Italian village and asks, "Where are all the men?" His bodyguard responds, "They have all been killed in vendettas." When Michael's father dies and he gains the throne of the family, so to speak, his first act is to order the strategic deaths of his chief enemies. The story of Solomon's rise to power at the beginning of 1 Kings also reads like a gangster tale.
It is somewhat amusing that David admonishes Solomon to keep all of the laws that Moses gave them, and then encourages him to kill troublemakers. Perhaps in his old age he forgot that one of those Mosaic laws forbade murdering people. Or perhaps that law was moot given all of the laws that were punishable by the death penalty. Or perhaps David knew that when the king does it, it isn't illegal. In any case, Solomon is not thought of as evil in the least because of his violent actions; he is deemed wise.
Incidentally, by the time the writers of the Books of Chronicles recorded the story, they summarize in one sentence: When David was old and full of years, he made his son Solomon king over Israel (1 Chr. 23:1). Adonijah is never mentioned as a pretender to the throne, and Solomon's violent rise to power is no longer an important part of the tale. Chronicles contains much more about the preparations for the temple, in which David is more intensely involved before his death than in the Samuel/Kings account. It's possible that this later document's less violent version of the story indicates a shift in the culture; perhaps the Jewish people in Babylonian exile learned to abhor violence. If that is the case, though, we have somehow managed to regress.
After three thousand years, we still haven't quite figured out how to solve problems without violence. Part of it has to do with power. When some people want to feel powerful, they think that violent actions toward another person will do the trick. And when people perceive themselves as powerless, they are more likely to do desperate things. At either end of the spectrum, it becomes challenging to see other people as valuable human beings. Maybe it becomes difficult to see oneself as a valuable human being as well. When a sense of human dignity is discarded, we are capable of justifying some rather shameful behavior.
In some parts of the world at this very moment, there are groups of people living out the conviction that their survival depends on killing another group of people. Violence seems like the only reaction to their circumstances that makes any sense. And perhaps they are right. There are very few people getting wealthy from trying to end such conflicts. Peace just isn't a lucrative enterprise, it would seem. At least not in the short term. There is certainly money to be made from equipping violent people with implements of destruction, however. Desperation obviously makes for ideal consumers.
It isn't necessarily wrong that violence is the only possible response for some groups of people whose survival is threatened. In their current circumstances, perhaps they would be quiet victims of genocide if they didn't take desperate and violent action. The real issue, perhaps, is why we are content to live in a world in which those circumstances are possible. We aren't necessarily talking about new dictators killing off the competition like Solomon. Some of the ongoing violence in the world is unnecessary if people were willing to see others as human beings worthy of dignity and respect. That would require certain people or groups to give up something, though, and we are wired to hold on to every bit of money or property that we get our hands on. Our survival depends on it, as far as our subconscious primal fears are concerned.
We have all of history to show us that violence begets violence when we are left to our automatic reactivity. We justify it with righteous indignation when we are the offenders, and we condemn it with vehement outrage when we are its victims -- or when there is some political value to affiliating ourselves with one side or the other. We want it to seem as though we have no choice, but there are always choices. There is a way that honors and respects people as fellow human beings -- that acknowledges the value, beauty, and dignity of all people. There is a way that calls upon our innate creativity rather than our primal reactivity. We can be more than animals if we choose to be.
Finding solutions without resorting to the easy path of violence will require some shifts in our perspective. Fears about survival will have to be confronted and dismantled. The desire for enough wealth and power to subjugate other people will have to be seen for what it is: a bestial response to fear. It will take work to see people differently and treat people with respect, especially since our fearful ways of seeing people are so well-rehearsed. There will be moments when we slip as a species, but we are more than the sum of our evolutionary subconscious reactions. We have some measure of control over our decisions, and the more we strive to make conscious decisions based on a deeper truth, beauty, and creativity, the easier those decisions will be.
Solomon was said to be wise, and yet he was the last ruler over a united Israelite kingdom. If even the wisest Israelite couldn't conceive of a better way than violent reactivity -- if even the wisest Israelite couldn't create a better society with longevity beyond his own lifespan -- what hope do we have? I'm sure at some point, this was the excuse of the Israelite people. It's a tempting excuse to be sure. "Better people than I have tried and failed, so what hope do I have?" Every hope in the world. The only reason we consider some people to be better than us is because they tried. Their level of achievement places no limitation on you.
If we do nothing to create the lives we most deeply want and the world we most want to live in, that is our choice (and not a terribly wise one at that). It has nothing to do with our capability and everything to do with our fear. Solomon was an imaginary figure. Even if he was based on a flesh and blood human being, what we know of him is a fantasy. His perceived limitations do not in any way define the limits of human potential. We are capable of more. We simply must decide to walk a different path. We must persistently determine to see more clearly the value of every person. It is not necessarily an easy path, but it is most assuredly a wise path.
It is somewhat amusing that David admonishes Solomon to keep all of the laws that Moses gave them, and then encourages him to kill troublemakers. Perhaps in his old age he forgot that one of those Mosaic laws forbade murdering people. Or perhaps that law was moot given all of the laws that were punishable by the death penalty. Or perhaps David knew that when the king does it, it isn't illegal. In any case, Solomon is not thought of as evil in the least because of his violent actions; he is deemed wise.
Incidentally, by the time the writers of the Books of Chronicles recorded the story, they summarize in one sentence: When David was old and full of years, he made his son Solomon king over Israel (1 Chr. 23:1). Adonijah is never mentioned as a pretender to the throne, and Solomon's violent rise to power is no longer an important part of the tale. Chronicles contains much more about the preparations for the temple, in which David is more intensely involved before his death than in the Samuel/Kings account. It's possible that this later document's less violent version of the story indicates a shift in the culture; perhaps the Jewish people in Babylonian exile learned to abhor violence. If that is the case, though, we have somehow managed to regress.
After three thousand years, we still haven't quite figured out how to solve problems without violence. Part of it has to do with power. When some people want to feel powerful, they think that violent actions toward another person will do the trick. And when people perceive themselves as powerless, they are more likely to do desperate things. At either end of the spectrum, it becomes challenging to see other people as valuable human beings. Maybe it becomes difficult to see oneself as a valuable human being as well. When a sense of human dignity is discarded, we are capable of justifying some rather shameful behavior.
In some parts of the world at this very moment, there are groups of people living out the conviction that their survival depends on killing another group of people. Violence seems like the only reaction to their circumstances that makes any sense. And perhaps they are right. There are very few people getting wealthy from trying to end such conflicts. Peace just isn't a lucrative enterprise, it would seem. At least not in the short term. There is certainly money to be made from equipping violent people with implements of destruction, however. Desperation obviously makes for ideal consumers.
It isn't necessarily wrong that violence is the only possible response for some groups of people whose survival is threatened. In their current circumstances, perhaps they would be quiet victims of genocide if they didn't take desperate and violent action. The real issue, perhaps, is why we are content to live in a world in which those circumstances are possible. We aren't necessarily talking about new dictators killing off the competition like Solomon. Some of the ongoing violence in the world is unnecessary if people were willing to see others as human beings worthy of dignity and respect. That would require certain people or groups to give up something, though, and we are wired to hold on to every bit of money or property that we get our hands on. Our survival depends on it, as far as our subconscious primal fears are concerned.
We have all of history to show us that violence begets violence when we are left to our automatic reactivity. We justify it with righteous indignation when we are the offenders, and we condemn it with vehement outrage when we are its victims -- or when there is some political value to affiliating ourselves with one side or the other. We want it to seem as though we have no choice, but there are always choices. There is a way that honors and respects people as fellow human beings -- that acknowledges the value, beauty, and dignity of all people. There is a way that calls upon our innate creativity rather than our primal reactivity. We can be more than animals if we choose to be.
Finding solutions without resorting to the easy path of violence will require some shifts in our perspective. Fears about survival will have to be confronted and dismantled. The desire for enough wealth and power to subjugate other people will have to be seen for what it is: a bestial response to fear. It will take work to see people differently and treat people with respect, especially since our fearful ways of seeing people are so well-rehearsed. There will be moments when we slip as a species, but we are more than the sum of our evolutionary subconscious reactions. We have some measure of control over our decisions, and the more we strive to make conscious decisions based on a deeper truth, beauty, and creativity, the easier those decisions will be.
Solomon was said to be wise, and yet he was the last ruler over a united Israelite kingdom. If even the wisest Israelite couldn't conceive of a better way than violent reactivity -- if even the wisest Israelite couldn't create a better society with longevity beyond his own lifespan -- what hope do we have? I'm sure at some point, this was the excuse of the Israelite people. It's a tempting excuse to be sure. "Better people than I have tried and failed, so what hope do I have?" Every hope in the world. The only reason we consider some people to be better than us is because they tried. Their level of achievement places no limitation on you.
If we do nothing to create the lives we most deeply want and the world we most want to live in, that is our choice (and not a terribly wise one at that). It has nothing to do with our capability and everything to do with our fear. Solomon was an imaginary figure. Even if he was based on a flesh and blood human being, what we know of him is a fantasy. His perceived limitations do not in any way define the limits of human potential. We are capable of more. We simply must decide to walk a different path. We must persistently determine to see more clearly the value of every person. It is not necessarily an easy path, but it is most assuredly a wise path.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Religious Faith Is Often Just a Synonym for Fear
One sometimes hears the argument that morality cannot exist without a god. There is an often aggressive and even belligerent claim among believers that religion is necessary for society to keep on existing. They claim that religion does more good than harm. Many people have enumerated the horrific acts of violence that were fueled by religious fervor throughout humanity's history, and such acts continue today. While the homosexual lifestyle is mostly verbally attacked in the United States, there are places in the world where suspected homosexuals are being killed, largely because of faith-based prejudice. Women may be killed or mutilated without consequence in some parts of the twenty-first-century world because of the religious beliefs of the society into which they are born. Moral behavior does not follow from religious belief.
Despite massive evidence against it, the mythical link between religion and morality remains so strong that many Americans would have a problem voting for an atheist president. Presumably, they would prefer a leader who believes that he answers to a higher power, who embraces a responsibility to lead righteously. And yet, faith has justified wars, excused oppressive laws, and masked hatred and bigotry. Rather than ask whether there can be morality without religion, one must question why the two were ever rationally linked to begin with. Religious belief may allow for unquestioned forgiveness, but it doesn't prevent abominable behavior. Some people would also claim that religion provides a number of services as well, that faith motivates people to do good, and that good outweighs the evil that is done in the name of religion.
Fear is in some way the motivator for most claims of faith, however. People believe in salvation because they fear damnation. People believe in faith healing because they fear dying. People believe in prayer because they fear all sorts of things: personal responsibility, medical procedures, collection agencies. Groups who become targeted by religious leaders are actually the groups those leaders fear. Homosexuals are denied the right to marry out of fear. Women are denied the right to make decisions about their own bodies because of fear. National healthcare is opposed because of fear. Dire predictions are made about "what will happen if...", and a segment of the population trembles.
Some of the fear gets expressed as righteous indignation or moral outrage. Fervent believers fear that their faith will be marginalized in society, so they have to fight. Religious leaders fear that they will have control over a smaller sector of the population, so they have to pronounce judgment loudly and foster more fear in those who still cling to their words. In turn, believers are infused with a fear that the Others (homosexuals, atheists, Muslims, etc.) will somehow harm them just by existing. They become afraid of letting their children be taught science by an atheist. They become afraid of allowing a homosexual couple to move in on their street. They become afraid of doing yoga because it is somehow connected with worshiping Hindu gods. They become afraid of anyone with different clothing or accent or skin color, because different is somehow threatening.
But fear doesn't really convince anyone to change. Yanking your child out of the atheist teacher's biology class won't ultimately keep your child from learning science, and it won't change the teacher's beliefs. Denying a young single mother the opportunity to decide for herself whether she can realistically take care of an unwanted child doesn't guarantee that either person's life will be improved. Prohibiting the homosexual couple from attending neighborhood social events won't convince them to change their lifestyle, although perhaps the belief is that your spot in heaven will be secure because you have refrained from socializing with heathens. Look around! Churches are full of people doing deplorable things. Sinful things. Immoral things. Why don't they warrant a little fear?
Ah, but if we had to admit that immorality co-exists with faith, we'd have less of a reason to judge those scary Others who believe and behave differently from us. Fear can make people just a little bit crazy. Fearful people can fire a weapon without thinking. Fearful people can start a hate campaign against someone without letting the truth get in the way of juicy accusations. Fearful people can act without worrying about the consequences in someone else's life. Fear is a very selfish emotion. It doesn't allow room for much else, even though a person may believe that they are being compassionate or loving in some twisted way while doing something entirely motivated by fear.
Fear is not exclusive to people of faith, however. The wealthy are afraid of being impoverished. The employed are afraid of being jobless. Everyone has to deal with fears. When the fears are justified by belief in a perfect higher power, however, there is little one can do to combat those fears. If one realizes that the fears are all a product of one's own mind, they can be much more easily dispelled. In many ways, religion relies on people being afraid. The more conservative a sect is, the more fear is fostered in its faithful. It's particularly strange for believers in an all-powerful deity to be so fearful. Their fear suggests that perhaps their god is not powerful enough to handle the existence of atheists and homosexuals, that they somehow have to take matters into their own hands. Or perhaps their fear is that their god will turn on them in wrath and judgment if they don't take action. Either way, people who live with such fear paint a very strange and primitive picture of their god.
What about compassionate and loving acts done by people of faith, though? Isn't there some counterbalance to the fear? Of course there is, because people who are not overwhelmed by fear can relax and be nurturing to others. Some people can be very compassionate in feeding the homeless people that they don't fear at a shelter and then turn around and be profoundly dispassionate toward one of those homeless people when they walk into a religious service. In one instance, the person isn't at all threatening, and in the other, the person is threatening to upset comfortable norms. But when fear is put aside, we can see the humanity in other people much more clearly. We don't actually need a god to tell us to clothe people and feed them and treat people like human beings. The absence of fear leaves room for compassionate behavior.
We have the ability and the responsibility to question our fear. When you find yourself in judgment over someone else, what is it you're honestly fearing? When you feel violently toward a person, or a group of people, what are you afraid they will do to upset the norms of your life? When you become indignant or outraged about something, what are you really afraid of? And is that fear in any way reasonable? It is rational in that instance to be afraid? Is it possible to set aside irrational fear -- no matter where that fear comes from -- to see another person's humanity?
Unfounded fear won't lead you to do anything good. Believe instead in your ability to see that the people you're tempted to fear are just like you in so many ways, and believe in your ability to treat them with love and compassion. You don't have to agree with everything about another person in order to treat him with love and compassion. There's really nothing threatening about someone being different from you in some small ways. Without fear, there is no cause for violence or oppression -- although it's important to realize that the whole world will not become rational and fearless all at once. In the end, though, violence and hatred work against faith, even when they seem to be fueled by it. You could be a vanguard for rational fearlessness, even if you believe in a higher power. After all, wouldn't a reasonable god want you to be fearless in your faith?
Despite massive evidence against it, the mythical link between religion and morality remains so strong that many Americans would have a problem voting for an atheist president. Presumably, they would prefer a leader who believes that he answers to a higher power, who embraces a responsibility to lead righteously. And yet, faith has justified wars, excused oppressive laws, and masked hatred and bigotry. Rather than ask whether there can be morality without religion, one must question why the two were ever rationally linked to begin with. Religious belief may allow for unquestioned forgiveness, but it doesn't prevent abominable behavior. Some people would also claim that religion provides a number of services as well, that faith motivates people to do good, and that good outweighs the evil that is done in the name of religion.
Fear is in some way the motivator for most claims of faith, however. People believe in salvation because they fear damnation. People believe in faith healing because they fear dying. People believe in prayer because they fear all sorts of things: personal responsibility, medical procedures, collection agencies. Groups who become targeted by religious leaders are actually the groups those leaders fear. Homosexuals are denied the right to marry out of fear. Women are denied the right to make decisions about their own bodies because of fear. National healthcare is opposed because of fear. Dire predictions are made about "what will happen if...", and a segment of the population trembles.
Some of the fear gets expressed as righteous indignation or moral outrage. Fervent believers fear that their faith will be marginalized in society, so they have to fight. Religious leaders fear that they will have control over a smaller sector of the population, so they have to pronounce judgment loudly and foster more fear in those who still cling to their words. In turn, believers are infused with a fear that the Others (homosexuals, atheists, Muslims, etc.) will somehow harm them just by existing. They become afraid of letting their children be taught science by an atheist. They become afraid of allowing a homosexual couple to move in on their street. They become afraid of doing yoga because it is somehow connected with worshiping Hindu gods. They become afraid of anyone with different clothing or accent or skin color, because different is somehow threatening.
But fear doesn't really convince anyone to change. Yanking your child out of the atheist teacher's biology class won't ultimately keep your child from learning science, and it won't change the teacher's beliefs. Denying a young single mother the opportunity to decide for herself whether she can realistically take care of an unwanted child doesn't guarantee that either person's life will be improved. Prohibiting the homosexual couple from attending neighborhood social events won't convince them to change their lifestyle, although perhaps the belief is that your spot in heaven will be secure because you have refrained from socializing with heathens. Look around! Churches are full of people doing deplorable things. Sinful things. Immoral things. Why don't they warrant a little fear?
Ah, but if we had to admit that immorality co-exists with faith, we'd have less of a reason to judge those scary Others who believe and behave differently from us. Fear can make people just a little bit crazy. Fearful people can fire a weapon without thinking. Fearful people can start a hate campaign against someone without letting the truth get in the way of juicy accusations. Fearful people can act without worrying about the consequences in someone else's life. Fear is a very selfish emotion. It doesn't allow room for much else, even though a person may believe that they are being compassionate or loving in some twisted way while doing something entirely motivated by fear.
Fear is not exclusive to people of faith, however. The wealthy are afraid of being impoverished. The employed are afraid of being jobless. Everyone has to deal with fears. When the fears are justified by belief in a perfect higher power, however, there is little one can do to combat those fears. If one realizes that the fears are all a product of one's own mind, they can be much more easily dispelled. In many ways, religion relies on people being afraid. The more conservative a sect is, the more fear is fostered in its faithful. It's particularly strange for believers in an all-powerful deity to be so fearful. Their fear suggests that perhaps their god is not powerful enough to handle the existence of atheists and homosexuals, that they somehow have to take matters into their own hands. Or perhaps their fear is that their god will turn on them in wrath and judgment if they don't take action. Either way, people who live with such fear paint a very strange and primitive picture of their god.
What about compassionate and loving acts done by people of faith, though? Isn't there some counterbalance to the fear? Of course there is, because people who are not overwhelmed by fear can relax and be nurturing to others. Some people can be very compassionate in feeding the homeless people that they don't fear at a shelter and then turn around and be profoundly dispassionate toward one of those homeless people when they walk into a religious service. In one instance, the person isn't at all threatening, and in the other, the person is threatening to upset comfortable norms. But when fear is put aside, we can see the humanity in other people much more clearly. We don't actually need a god to tell us to clothe people and feed them and treat people like human beings. The absence of fear leaves room for compassionate behavior.
We have the ability and the responsibility to question our fear. When you find yourself in judgment over someone else, what is it you're honestly fearing? When you feel violently toward a person, or a group of people, what are you afraid they will do to upset the norms of your life? When you become indignant or outraged about something, what are you really afraid of? And is that fear in any way reasonable? It is rational in that instance to be afraid? Is it possible to set aside irrational fear -- no matter where that fear comes from -- to see another person's humanity?
Unfounded fear won't lead you to do anything good. Believe instead in your ability to see that the people you're tempted to fear are just like you in so many ways, and believe in your ability to treat them with love and compassion. You don't have to agree with everything about another person in order to treat him with love and compassion. There's really nothing threatening about someone being different from you in some small ways. Without fear, there is no cause for violence or oppression -- although it's important to realize that the whole world will not become rational and fearless all at once. In the end, though, violence and hatred work against faith, even when they seem to be fueled by it. You could be a vanguard for rational fearlessness, even if you believe in a higher power. After all, wouldn't a reasonable god want you to be fearless in your faith?
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Dinah and the Shechemites: Not a New Band, Just a Story of Senseless, Violent Retribution
The actions of Jacob and his children didn’t always reflect an awareness of any sort of divinity, except perhaps with the assumption that they could do whatever they wanted because their god was better than other gods (which may not actually be any sort of awareness at all). Consider the tale of Jacob’s daughter, Dinah, in Genesis 34. Once Jacob and his family were settling into their new stomping grounds, Dinah went out unescorted to meet the other local women. Shechem, the son of the area’s ruler (Hamor) saw Dinah and was instantly smitten, so he took her and slept with her against her will. At least that’s the story recorded in scripture. Jacob’s sons (Dinah’s brothers) were outraged, but they played it cool, deceiving Hamor and Shechem into thinking that they approved of a marriage between Dinah and Shechem. They insisted that all of the men under Hamor’s authority be circumcised before plans could continue, to which Hamor readily agreed. While the men were recovering from the minor surgical operation, Jacob’s sons slaughtered all the men, stole all of their wealth, livestock, women, and children, and considered it justice. Jacob was angry that his reputation in the area was going to take a hit from his sons’ actions, but they showed no remorse.
When people tell stories about events that have happened to them, there’s no way to tell how much of the story is truth and how much is elaboration. Even in this day and age, when two people engage in a moment of passion, they may have completely different accounts of the incident, should the occasion to talk about it arise. If one person winds up feeling shame about the event, or thinks there might be something to gain from playing the victim, the story could easily become radically different from reality. Even in reading the biblical account, it seems that Hamor and Shechem have a completely different understanding of the situation than Dinah’s family. The alleged rapist wants to marry Dinah, Hamor wants to share his land with Jacob’s family, and they are willing to have all of their men undergo circumcision as part of the agreement. It doesn’t seem like the behavior of ruthless criminals.
Rape does happen. And most people would agree that rapists deserve some sort of justice. Even though it may be difficult to get to the truth when there are conflicting accounts, people who have been raped should not have their lives, behavior, or clothing scrutinized merely because they are brave enough to come forward. That being said, it’s important to get as close to the actual truth as one can before meting out justice.
But perhaps evaluating the nature of intimacy between Dinah and Shechem is out of place, considering the culture of the time. If women were considered property, then it wouldn’t really have mattered whether Dinah consented or not, Shechem’s actions would constitute theft. Maybe a closer story in today’s culture would be slightly less emotionally charged than considering one’s only daughter or sister as the victim of a violent sexual crime. That image could understandably provoke a person to violence. So, let’s consider a story about a car.
Imagine you have a classic car parked in a parking lot somewhere. This car is a real beauty, your pride and joy. But when you get back to the car after leaving it alone in the parking lot, you realize that someone has ripped open the steering column, hotwired the car, and taken it for a spin. You are beside yourself with anger and disbelief, when a man approaches and says, “That is a great car. I saw it sitting there and I just had to take it for a test drive. I’d like to buy it from you. Name your price.”
With your best poker face masking your rage toward this man, you say, “Sure, I’d love for you to have this car. But, you and everyone in your neighborhood have to drink a bottle of this delicious wine.” The man agrees, goes back to his neighborhood, and proceeds to get everyone drinking wine. When the neighborhood is recovering from the alcohol, you go on a killing spree, slaughtering everyone in close proximity to this guy like you’re filming a slasher film. Then you steal all of the cars in the neighborhood, as well as any valuable electronic devices, jewelry, cold hard cash, …you get the picture.
Justice? Not by a long shot. Of course, this modernized retelling doesn’t capture all of the nuances of the cultures involved in the original story, but it doesn’t really need to. No matter how you look at the situation, the actions of Jacob’s sons constitute a disproportionate response out of unchecked rage. It’s a pretty impressive feat—killing a community’s men and making off with all the women, children, and valuables—but it’s far from model behavior.
Even as the heroes of their own story, the sons of Jacob come across as barbaric and nearly amoral. Their sister was “defiled” by one man. Their response is to kill an entire city of men and make off with everything and everyone else in the city. And they set the stage for the slaughter by making a mockery out of the sacred sign of a holy pact with God. It may seem clever, but it’s hard to call it just. It would almost seem inhuman if it weren’t so close to some beliefs held by many people in the 21st century. Many people still seem to find the idea of wiping out those who are different so much more compelling than the idea of learning how to find common ground and share the world with fellow inhabitants.
So, if we are not going to emulate over-the-top violence as a reaction to situations and people we don’t like, what is the alternative? There are probably many, and the best among them are going to involve seeing other people as equal partners in creation. People are all valuable and fallible, even the person who looks back at you from the mirror. It isn’t about permissiveness or accepting wrongdoing. Justice still has a place, when it is actually just and stems from the acknowledgement of every person’s inherent value. Every person has that divine essence of truth, beauty, and creativity, but every person doesn’t tap into it equally. So, in a word, we’re talking about forgiveness.
Forgiveness doesn’t mean eliminating consequences. Forgiveness is simply a word for letting go of the dehumanizing hostility we so often direct at people. There is no honest assessment of spiritual truth that can lead to the conclusion that forgiveness is an inappropriate response. It’s a wonderful image to think that an all-knowing, benevolent god handles all matters of forgiveness, that mercy is ultimately the purview of the Almighty. The concept of a Christ dying for the world’s sins can leave some people with the impression that the issue is handled without them needing to be involved. But the act of forgiveness is our responsibility, regardless of religious persuasion. Moreover, the act of forgiveness itself is healing, not to the one being forgiven, but to the person doing the forgiving.
Forgiveness is crucial to human relationships on every scale. Without it, we are in a perpetual state of war with everyone, including ourselves. There is still a place for justice, and actions have consequences. We don’t have to make those consequences worse for ourselves and others by embracing hatred. It is our responsibility as human beings to act toward one another in a way that honors our mutual value. And when someone makes a misstep on that path, it is our responsibility to forgive. It is one way of recognizing the deep truth, beauty, and creativity within ourselves, to recognize that even in the darkest of circumstances, we are capable of letting go of hatred.
Friday, September 9, 2011
September 11, Ten Years Later: The Hypocrisy of Demonizing Islam Is Still Alive and Well in America
It has been a decade since terrorists crashed planes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The events of that day transformed life, not just for Americans, but for the entire world. This weekend, many people are honoring those who lost their lives, either as innocent victims or as courageous first responders. I deeply respect that heartfelt mourning, and I am profoundly grateful that no one in my closest circle of friends and family was at either scene of violence on that day.
Even beyond those sincere statements, I find it prudent to preface what I am about to write with the assertion that I do not condone the actions of terrorists, regardless of their religious or national affiliation. I’m not a Christian, and I’m not a Muslim. However, I do sympathize with Muslims who unnecessarily bear the brunt of persecution because of their faith, and I am both angered and saddened at the willful misrepresentation by which some American Christian spokespeople have attempted to villainize nearly a third of the world’s population.
I earnestly believed Americans had moved past the wholesale demonizing of Islam, but just this week I have heard Americans who claim to be devout Christians asserting that Islam is a violent faith which encourages the destruction of innocent (Christian) lives. I have heard people fostering the perspective that Americans/Christians are hated for their beliefs by Muslims in general. Perhaps it is not the willful propagation of misinformation. Perhaps these people (who have some measure of influence, by the way) are truly ignorant. My skeptical side would suggest that they know exactly what they are saying.
The strange thing is that some of these people are happy to use a single verse from the Quran to justify their judgment of Islam. If it says in one place that it is a religious obligation to kill infidels, then that closes the book on the subject so to speak. They never seem to remember that the Judeo-Christian Bible says pretty much the same thing. In fact, several times in the book of Deuteronomy, God is quoted as commanding that people be put to death if they don’t agree with the strictures of Israelite culture. After leaving Egypt and wandering around in the desert for a couple of generations, God commanded the Israelites to burn cities of people of other cultures and kill innocent women and children.
I’m not suggesting that this is in any way right, or that people should judge 21st-century Christians based on what people did thousands of years ago. I’m simply saying that there are some pretty violent actions condoned in the holy text of Jews and Christians, and we do not typically think of Judaism and Christianity as intentionally violent faiths. I suppose if the Christians who believe that Islam is a violent faith also acknowledged that Christianity is a violent faith (when the same standards are applied), it wouldn’t seem so deceitful. As it is, their accusations come across as manipulative and underhanded.
It makes sense, though. For hundreds of years, Christians have read and been told that they would be persecuted for their beliefs. When someone treats them poorly, it’s natural for some of them to think: That’s just religious persecution. It not only strengthens their resolve, but it also exonerates them from examining their own actions. To claim that an entire group of people hates you because of your beliefs may seem fantastical, but I’m sure it makes a certain sense in the minds of some Christians. It also makes sense that people unwilling to examine how their actions impact how they are treated as individuals would also be unwilling to consider how an entire group’s actions impact how they are treated by other groups.
I don’t believe that the terrorists were in any way justified in their actions. I also don’t believe that the whole of Islam hates America because of a belief system that not even everyone in this country espouses. It makes more sense that a small group of people were reacting to the actions of the American government and military, actions that had a direct impact on their lives. I don’t even want to get into whether the actions of the American government and military were right or wrong. I just want to be a voice of clarity about what actually happened ten years ago and what continues to happen today.
Innocent people lost their lives at the hands of violent men committing atrocious acts. The men were affiliated with an extremist group who identify with a particular religious tradition. These people and people like them are no more representative of Islam than the Ku Klux Klan is representative of mainstream Christianity. It’s easy to get people riled up when it comes to hating an entire group of people. I don’t know why we’re wired like that, but we’re very practiced at generalizing and stereotyping. It isn’t honest, though. It isn’t the truth that sets anyone free. It is a deception which keeps people in chains of anger and resentment. And it isn’t appropriate behavior for people who claim to follow a new command to love one another.
Even beyond those sincere statements, I find it prudent to preface what I am about to write with the assertion that I do not condone the actions of terrorists, regardless of their religious or national affiliation. I’m not a Christian, and I’m not a Muslim. However, I do sympathize with Muslims who unnecessarily bear the brunt of persecution because of their faith, and I am both angered and saddened at the willful misrepresentation by which some American Christian spokespeople have attempted to villainize nearly a third of the world’s population.
I earnestly believed Americans had moved past the wholesale demonizing of Islam, but just this week I have heard Americans who claim to be devout Christians asserting that Islam is a violent faith which encourages the destruction of innocent (Christian) lives. I have heard people fostering the perspective that Americans/Christians are hated for their beliefs by Muslims in general. Perhaps it is not the willful propagation of misinformation. Perhaps these people (who have some measure of influence, by the way) are truly ignorant. My skeptical side would suggest that they know exactly what they are saying.
The strange thing is that some of these people are happy to use a single verse from the Quran to justify their judgment of Islam. If it says in one place that it is a religious obligation to kill infidels, then that closes the book on the subject so to speak. They never seem to remember that the Judeo-Christian Bible says pretty much the same thing. In fact, several times in the book of Deuteronomy, God is quoted as commanding that people be put to death if they don’t agree with the strictures of Israelite culture. After leaving Egypt and wandering around in the desert for a couple of generations, God commanded the Israelites to burn cities of people of other cultures and kill innocent women and children.
I’m not suggesting that this is in any way right, or that people should judge 21st-century Christians based on what people did thousands of years ago. I’m simply saying that there are some pretty violent actions condoned in the holy text of Jews and Christians, and we do not typically think of Judaism and Christianity as intentionally violent faiths. I suppose if the Christians who believe that Islam is a violent faith also acknowledged that Christianity is a violent faith (when the same standards are applied), it wouldn’t seem so deceitful. As it is, their accusations come across as manipulative and underhanded.
It makes sense, though. For hundreds of years, Christians have read and been told that they would be persecuted for their beliefs. When someone treats them poorly, it’s natural for some of them to think: That’s just religious persecution. It not only strengthens their resolve, but it also exonerates them from examining their own actions. To claim that an entire group of people hates you because of your beliefs may seem fantastical, but I’m sure it makes a certain sense in the minds of some Christians. It also makes sense that people unwilling to examine how their actions impact how they are treated as individuals would also be unwilling to consider how an entire group’s actions impact how they are treated by other groups.
I don’t believe that the terrorists were in any way justified in their actions. I also don’t believe that the whole of Islam hates America because of a belief system that not even everyone in this country espouses. It makes more sense that a small group of people were reacting to the actions of the American government and military, actions that had a direct impact on their lives. I don’t even want to get into whether the actions of the American government and military were right or wrong. I just want to be a voice of clarity about what actually happened ten years ago and what continues to happen today.
Innocent people lost their lives at the hands of violent men committing atrocious acts. The men were affiliated with an extremist group who identify with a particular religious tradition. These people and people like them are no more representative of Islam than the Ku Klux Klan is representative of mainstream Christianity. It’s easy to get people riled up when it comes to hating an entire group of people. I don’t know why we’re wired like that, but we’re very practiced at generalizing and stereotyping. It isn’t honest, though. It isn’t the truth that sets anyone free. It is a deception which keeps people in chains of anger and resentment. And it isn’t appropriate behavior for people who claim to follow a new command to love one another.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Is Violence a Religious Freedom or Obligation? (or When Did "Might Makes Right" Become an Accepted Theological Claim?)
As I look at Genesis 14-15, what stands out is the matter-of-fact cultural belief that a divine being approves of and encourages violence under certain circumstances. While many pundits decry the violence of our modern-day society, it strikes me that our current level of violence is really nothing new to the human race. Although Plato disputed the claim long ago in The Republic, the concept that 'might makes right' still walks hand-in-hand with concepts like 'turn the other cheek' and 'love thy neighbor' in Christian circles. It may be time to take a critical look at the way violence is condoned (and even exalted) in religious texts before we critique the violence in our current society.
“History is written by the victor,” is also a familiar proverb. Thomas Jefferson put it this way, “A morsel of genuine history is a thing so rare as to be always valuable.” Even adult siblings who grew up in the same house often have differing memories of the events of their childhood. Unfortunately, most stories purported to be historical come with agendas. When one hears such a tale, it is best to dig down just a bit to determine what the agenda may be. It’s possible that the point of a story is to illustrate a valuable lesson about life and how to treat other people, in which case it could have great merit. Other agendas are less altruistic, attempting to denigrate a people, prove legitimacy to a claim on some property, or simply indicate why we deserve favors and others do not.
For centuries, people have made war with each other. There may have even been good and wholesome intentions behind participation in war at some points in history. In the end, though, the side that “wins” gets to decide why they won, and it always seems to go beyond superior military might. Victors have a propensity for claiming a religious right to have won, stating that the favoritism of a god must be behind their success. Now, it’s one thing for an ancient Greek to make a statement like, “Ares smiled upon us this day,” as a euphemism to indicate that they won a battle. In modern society, any hint of symbolic reference has disappeared when a claim is made that, “God is on our side.” This can lead to all sorts of trouble, since belief in divine approval for one’s actions can override all interest in open-minded discourse or even moral or ethical ramifications. If God is on our side, then we can do no wrong.
How many sides can a divine being support, though? And why would a divine being who honored life support any side in actions that are essentially based on the premise that the lives and comfort of one group of people is more valuable than the lives and comfort of another group of people? Rather than pin things on any sort of god, it might be more honest to take responsibility for our own violence and for the hardship that it causes. “We bombed your country because God told us to,” just doesn’t hold water.
Whether it is street violence, domestic violence, “ethnic cleansing,” or out and out war between two countries, the choice to be violent rests with each person. There may be cases in which violence is necessary for personal safety, but in an age that considers itself somewhat enlightened, it seems like an immature and lazy option for groups of people to choose. Honoring the truth and the beauty and the value of every human being is a much more challenging option, but we are up to the challenge. Likewise, it is important for us to weigh the agenda behind the stories that we hear and the stories that we tell, to determine whether they contribute toward honoring humanity or whether they contribute toward a culture of violence.
“History is written by the victor,” is also a familiar proverb. Thomas Jefferson put it this way, “A morsel of genuine history is a thing so rare as to be always valuable.” Even adult siblings who grew up in the same house often have differing memories of the events of their childhood. Unfortunately, most stories purported to be historical come with agendas. When one hears such a tale, it is best to dig down just a bit to determine what the agenda may be. It’s possible that the point of a story is to illustrate a valuable lesson about life and how to treat other people, in which case it could have great merit. Other agendas are less altruistic, attempting to denigrate a people, prove legitimacy to a claim on some property, or simply indicate why we deserve favors and others do not.
For centuries, people have made war with each other. There may have even been good and wholesome intentions behind participation in war at some points in history. In the end, though, the side that “wins” gets to decide why they won, and it always seems to go beyond superior military might. Victors have a propensity for claiming a religious right to have won, stating that the favoritism of a god must be behind their success. Now, it’s one thing for an ancient Greek to make a statement like, “Ares smiled upon us this day,” as a euphemism to indicate that they won a battle. In modern society, any hint of symbolic reference has disappeared when a claim is made that, “God is on our side.” This can lead to all sorts of trouble, since belief in divine approval for one’s actions can override all interest in open-minded discourse or even moral or ethical ramifications. If God is on our side, then we can do no wrong.
How many sides can a divine being support, though? And why would a divine being who honored life support any side in actions that are essentially based on the premise that the lives and comfort of one group of people is more valuable than the lives and comfort of another group of people? Rather than pin things on any sort of god, it might be more honest to take responsibility for our own violence and for the hardship that it causes. “We bombed your country because God told us to,” just doesn’t hold water.
Whether it is street violence, domestic violence, “ethnic cleansing,” or out and out war between two countries, the choice to be violent rests with each person. There may be cases in which violence is necessary for personal safety, but in an age that considers itself somewhat enlightened, it seems like an immature and lazy option for groups of people to choose. Honoring the truth and the beauty and the value of every human being is a much more challenging option, but we are up to the challenge. Likewise, it is important for us to weigh the agenda behind the stories that we hear and the stories that we tell, to determine whether they contribute toward honoring humanity or whether they contribute toward a culture of violence.
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