Theist v Atheist

If you take the apparent question of whether “god” exists or not as an existential question or as an ontological question then then I suspect that you will be caught in the never-ending, polarised and irresolvable debate between theist and atheist. Here I am at one with the Buddhist teaching that there are unanswerable questions.

It is not a question. It is not provable or disprovable. It cannot be resolved by any experiment or by any formal method of proof. It is beyond knowing. It is not a thing of the mind nor can it be captured by any web of words. It is deeper and is visceral in its intelligence. It is in how we feel and respond at the very deepest levels of being. It is when we are stripped totally bare and have no shield, no defence, no words, no wisdom, nothing more than the very breath we hang onto - there, that is the point where we touch the divine.

I have no wish to characterise the divine or to label it.

Such things we can experience, but the more we try to tangle them in webs of explanations, the more we enfold them in doctrine and belief, the more we wrap them in words like “god”, the more we try to condition and canalise them to fit in with our systems of belief and faith then the more we betray them.

Christianity, Buddhism, atheism, scientific rationalism, realism - whatever and whichever - these are just the vehicles in which we may travel for a while on our journey. We should not mistake the vehicle we are travelling in with the journey that we are making.

That is the most astonishing journey of all: the journey from our birth to our death.

And that journey is but a thread in a cloth woven since the beginnings of time.

At a Quaker Meeting

A moment of quiet. A collection of my thoughts - a ragbag stuffed with the past: overfull sometimes, memories spilling out of it and spitting venom at me. Then the silence of the moment begins to absorb them all like old-fashioned blotting paper. There is the sense of others settling and finding their own inner peace, of their quietening as they sit, almost radiating their inner calm.

There is something so very infectious about sitting with others in a Meeting*. That silence is not yours, not theirs – it is something other; something shared and created, and at times tangible; a bit like a sheet spread over the room with each person holding a corner and helping it to unfurl and open until the whole space is enveloped.

It is in that space, in that quiet, in that stillness, that you are confronted – confronted most by its peace, by its acceptance, by its inclusion of all, and of all that is thought, or felt, by me, by others, by, one might almost venture, the very universe itself.

The language of Meetings is old and flavoured with words that I often find hard. They are from a mindset and time that is not mine. How could it be? I have been born the other side of massive intellectual divides – The Enlightenment and the continuing revolutions in science. They are sometimes discordant and often jarring. I do not find them in the least bit easy. They are a wrapping that could so easily blind one to what is to be found within. What I find within is peace, a peace that is so meaningful, so giving of succour, so healing.

You may ask why I should go and sit, time after time, in Quaker Meetings? I am a well educated, rational, sceptical and largely atheistic person of some years – enough years to give me white hair – who has never shown any inclination towards taking part in, or tolerance of, organised religion. The answer can be given in one word: peace. That inner and outer peace. That shared peace. That peace that comes in the silence. That peace that speaks so deeply to that which is within. 

Is it comfortable? No. That peace asks questions. It demands your being and your attention. It asks of you; of who you are and of how you live; of others and how you are with them; of the world and how you add to it.

Are the Meetings full of others who are like-minded? No. Every person has their own way of seeing and of being, of believing or not believing, of speaking and of understanding; and often they are challenging to accept. But that, too, is to the good. To listen fully and deeply to their honestly spoken words; to consider them and to try to come to terms with why they are so moved; why they feel and understand as they do; what it is that has touched them; to take all of that in whilst keeping true to your own inner integrity of feeling, of thought, and of belief; that indeed is a challenge, but one that makes you grow. To only ever be surrounded by those of like-mind, although comfortable, is not wholly beneficial: if anything it is even ossifying. We need the challenge of others and their way of being to shine light into our own.

*Quakers traditionally call their meetings "Meetings for Worship"
(This is a slightly re-edited version of the one published in "The Friend" of 13 January 2012)

Houses of words

We build houses out of the words we believe so that we made hide inside them safe from the unknown, safe from the uncomfortable, safe from the threatening, safe from the questioning, safe from exposing our utter nakedness and want of coherence in the presence of a universe so vast that we cannot encompass it or comprehend it. “God” you utter and yet another brick is forced into place shielding you from all that you would keep outside. You offer me this brick and I have no idea what to do with it.

Are Prayer and Meditation the same?

Mostly we are caught in the web of the now, neither looking inwards nor outwards, but only at our everyday, our nexus of survival and coping that we take to be the all that there is. However, there are two vast traditions both of which call us away from our addiction with being us, from being obsessed  with being ourselves, being obsessed with our locus operandi, with the stuff of our day-to-day. 

Prayer looks outwards. It is address to something incomprehensibility greater, stronger and more permanent than the frail, mortal, leaf in the wind that we are.To pray is to submit to that oceanic vastness and its forces that encompasses everything we shall ever know and everything that lies beyond what we can ever know. To pray is to know that you are but the smallest dot on the smallest sheet of paper blown across a dessert of unimaginable vastness. To pray it to yield to the all. 

Prayer is often more easy for those who have been broken by life, who, being full of wishes to open their heart and wounds to that ineffableness, to that vastness, find its all encompassing embrace a powerful source to draw what succour they can from; or who, seeking no remission, abandon themselves within it or, at times, seek no more than to know their insignificance and frailty by contrast to its implacableness. 

Meditation looks inwards. It address nothing. It is the turning down of the volume of the self until a point of no-motion is reached and the self and its cares and worries dissolve. There, in the peace that passes all understanding, refuge is found.

More about Penal Substitution

The doctrinal emphasis on the idea of penal substitution that so typifies Western Christianity may date from about 1100 – 1200 CE, that is following the Great Schism of 1054 CE. That schism allowed Western Christianity to develop along different theological lines to the Eastern traditions. The idea of penal substitution does occur before, but is is not doctrinally central. In the Eastern traditions it has never gained much adherence. The schism provided extra impetus for an overhaul of the Western traditions, an impetus that may have started with the Cluniac reforms. Church beliefs and practices were de-Paganised (the period 500 – 1000 CE can be thought as one of Paganistic-Christianity in Western Europe), Marianism was fostered and a much more penitential, lapsarian doctrine espoused.

The Reformation developed the emphasis on penal substitution further, especially in the light of 'original sin' and its lapsarian consequences. This is particularly clear in the works of John Calvin. Modern fundamentalist beliefs seem to be more in tune with Calvin's developments than with the beliefs of the early church or of the traditions of Eastern Christianity.

Traditionally Unitarian thinking (both post-Reformation and Early Christian) denied the divinity of Jesus, seeing him as fully human. The resurrection often being seen as metaphorical and spiritual, not physical. The story of Jesus being seen as a metaphor for all human suffering and its spiritual transcendence, something only fully possible if Jesus was purely human. For Unitarians it was Jesus's humanity, not his substitution, that gave the Passion its special relevance.

Is Unitarianism a somewhat Islamic view of Jesus? Why not? It would not alter one word of the Gospels, simply the way in which you see them. Perhaps it is no accident that modern Unitarianism arose first in Transylvania, an area that had been part of the Ottoman Empire and subject to considerable Islamic influence and thought.

Messiahs, canons, penal substitution & the formation of orthodoxies.

Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ of the Gospels, may have lived and died sometime during the period 10 BCE to 20 or 30 CE. It was not until the Council of Nicaea in 325 CE, three centuries later, that an agreed creed confirming the triune interpretation was established, and not until the Synod of Hippo in 393 CE that the biblical cannon of the New Testament was agreed - some three and a half centuries after the events that they purport to record. (Not exactly contemporaneous recording!) During the intervening period many differing interpretations and versions of “the life of Jesus” and its significance competed with each other, ranging from those that identified Jesus as fully divine to those that identified him as fully human, from those who saw the teachings in the light of lapsarian and eschatological thought and those who took them to be more immanentist or gnostic.

It should also be born in mind that the loosing sides in the many disagreements and debates during this formative age would run the risk of being declared 'heretical' and would be in considerable danger. A fact which may have lead to the destruction of many alternative gospels and other writings. In these theological battles of the early church the winner took all and and all evidence of the loser's thought was expurgated.

The writers and subsequent editors and translators of the competing gospels and other writings went to some lengths to tie in the stories they were telling with the Jewish belief in a messiah. There was a need in marrying the two halves of the evolving bible, the Jewish written Old Testament and the new writings of the New Testament – to make the new mesh in with the old. The messiah was the bridge that allowed that linkage to be made.

With regard to the doctrine of penal substitution, it might be interesting and informative to consider the influence of both Zoroastrian and of Pagan belief on its development; Zoroastrian belief being millennial and dualistic and Pagan being sacrificial and resurrectional (the enactment of death to create re-birth and regeneration, often the death and subsequent resurrection of a god or demi-god, or of their human incarnations or substitutes).

Judaism may well be the father of Christianity, but Paganism is the mother and Zoroastrianism its great uncle.

The challenge of polarity

Polarity has always been a theological challenge to monotheism. In attempting to make the deity universal, that is to be all encompassing, the deity becomes just as strongly identified with all that is harmful, destructive, negative, "evil", or repulsive as with all that is constructive, positive, healing, "good" or attractive. An omnipotent and omnipresent god is equally good and bad, equally loving and hating, equally constructive and destructive. If not, then they are not omnipotent and omnipresent.

Watching the apologists for monotheism attempting to salvage a “loving” god from that paradox is interesting. 

The Zoroastrians did so by having two opposed deities and life as a battle ground between the two. It is likely that the Jews incorporated this into their theology during their exile in Babylon, only in a lop sided way, with their “God” on the side of goodness and, as a result of the fall, “Satan” leading the opposing team. In time the resultant lapsarian theology has become much more pronounced in many forms of Christianity than in Judaism or Islam, but is implicit in them all.

That is the problem with calling things “God” - they inflate into monsters who run eternal concentration camps called “hell”.

But why go down the route of using a noun? Why not a verb? Why not “godness” rather than “god”? Why not a quality that things can possess, a bit like a static electric charge, but which can not exist independent? That is the approach taken by Shinto. Kami are a quality possessed by things, not something that exists independently. They are not universal, nor are claims made about their being omnipotent nor omnipresent, but we all know the tangibleness of special places that fill us with senses of wonder, or of peace, or of calm, places that move us. They do indeed seem charged with something indefinable.

The Impenetrable Wall

The unanswerables due to ineffability:

1. Whether god exists or not
2. Whether god is one or many
3. Whether god is permanent, impermanent or intermittent
4. Whether god is universal or local
5. Whether god is male or female, or neither, or both
6. Whether god is concious or unconscious, sentient or insentient, cognisant or uncognisant
7. Whether god is anthropomorphic or alien
8. Whether god has any intentions or what those intentions are
9. What god may or may not think or believe, want or wish
10. Whether you can or cannot communicate with god
11. Whether your beliefs about god are true or untrue

Ineffability implies incomprehensibility: that is the impenetrable wall.

There are experiences that we can have when confronting that wall, and, yes, I feel it is important to confront that wall.Those experiences can sometimes be given names like “god”, like “the peace that passes all understanding”, like “touching the divine”, like “being in the presence”, like “being touched by god”, like “seeing the light” …; these experiences are very real and can be important to our spiritual growth, but they can lead to many delusions.

Interestingly, people tend to interpret such experiences in terms of their culture, Christians in a Christian way, Muslims in an Islamic way, Hindu in a Hindu way, Buddhists in a Buddhist way, and so on. Such experiences are taken as a confirmation of the ontology of their respective weltanschauung. Thus in monotheistic cultures they are often taken as confirmation of the existence of a deity.

"Our intense need to understand will always be a powerful stumbling block to our attempts to reach God in simple love [...] and must always be overcome. For if you do not overcome this need to understand, it will undermine your quest. It will replace the darkness which you have pierced to reach God with clear images of something which, however good, however beautiful, however Godlike, is not God." 

The Cloud of Unknowing

And I would suggest that even the word “god” can be one such stumbling block, one such attempt to explain experiences in terms of a familiar culture. 

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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fourteen_unanswerable_questions
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ineffability

Something almost tangible

Priestie, well, that is the nickname we have given him, he is an x-catholic priest, now married, divorced, and, who knows, maybe in a relationship again, but all of that is not the point. The point was a conversation we had. He pops in now and again, just for a chat. On this particular occasion the subject turned to death, which as a catholic priest he had to witness quite a number of times - part of the duties of the job, administering the last rites and similar stuff. He did say there was a strange beauty in the moments of death. First the light going out of the eyes, then something slipping downward across the face and on, as if some force was leaving the body, something almost tangible, almost a thing in itself that was shedding the body. He said it gave him hope.

Thought I would share that with you.

Beware the naming

Beware the naming of "God" for in that lies much danger and the building of temples. Soon fatwas and schisms, hight priests and sacraments, and "is the wine really turned to blood or do we spill blood so that we can say that it is?". Beware the naming, for in that there is so much prescription and hatred and communities split asunder. Do not go there, but rather place your fingers on your lips and say not a word. So, what is the name of - shoos, not a word, not a word!

Creating monsters

Listening to the truth within,
Observing the wonder without.
Unbinding from the shackles of words:
Name it God and you create a monster,
Name it not and you close your heart.