Due Process
Sometimes I find myself poking around things for reasons I can’t begin to understand. And it only just dawned on me recently what I was trying to do in regards to one such poking session. Because actually all the paranormal and religious stuff in the world is fascinating. It really is. It is great fun. I can read about the Marian apparitions (in Portugal, and much closer to home), extraterrestrials, ultraterrestrials, resurrections, immaculate conceptions, ghosts, flying humanoids, flying saucers, UFOs (as either Unidentified Flying – or Falling – Objects)… and what not. I guess you either fit that stuff into your worldview, or you don’t. I think despite all the time and energy I’ve poured into such things, I don’t think they have a place in my worldview. I just don’t believe. (Mulder would be so disappointed.)
But I’ve noticed that I keep asking questions about these things, not because I am particularly interested in knowing the answers but rather because I’m trying to get inside other people’s heads. I’m trying to engage them in their process – not the artistic process that I seem to be forever talking about, but their thought process.
One of the things that really intrigued me when I started listening to people talk about their religious beliefs was how they would (for want of a better expression) ‘cherrypick’ from different traditions. This was really apparent in self-help literature, the likes of Wayne Dyer would dedicate entire tomes to collecting and meditating upon the virtues and teachings of various spiritual figures. Some religions, notably the Bahá’í Faith, seem to try very purposefully to emulsify a lot of different traditions. But in individuals it seems to happen much more organically. An individual who was brought up as an Episcopalian might come to draw heavily upon Sufi mysticism for inspiration.
But even those who identify themselves categorically as being a proponent of one religion seem to emphasise certain teachings over others, certain books over others, certain passages over others. This surprised me, though I don’t know why it surprised me. Maybe now would be a good time to try and deconstruct my own thought process on this subject.
I think one of the things people need to appreciate is that my experience of God is that I don’t have an experience of God. I can’t trace back to a particular time when that energy, that entity, was made known to me in any way that wasn’t purely intellectual. Certainly I’ve heard a lot about God, but I haven’t had any visceral emotional experience that I would associate with that idea. I haven’t been blinded in the desert, regaining my sight later; hell I haven’t even felt transcendent singing a hymn. I guess to the extent that I haven’t had this experience – and I don’t know how to cultivate this experience – I figure my whole understanding of God would be completely dependent on religious texts. (I guess I forget that other people have had these experiences.)
The other thing to note is that religion has a history of creating splinter groups anyway. This is why we have denominations in the first place. People who might agree in principle that God exists and that Jesus existed, and was in some way related to God, don’t necessarily agree on other things. Indeed these differences are considered significant enough to form separate groups. And I guess that is the crux of what I am wondering… how do you negotiate between these things? A friend assures me that the Bible has a lot to offer the world and that might be true. But which parts? Which things do you embrace and which things do you relinquish as being more relevant in another time or another context? Which things do you take literally and which do you decide are parables and metaphors? Does the bit about loving your neighbour take precedence over the tips for dealing with your slaves? How do you arrive at this hierarchy of understanding?
This one passage in Revelations stuck in my head after Julia Sweeney alluded to it in Letting Go Of God. I asked two Christians about the passage independently and was a little bemused that they both gave identical responses. “Isn’t that a Jehovah’s Witness thing?” they responded. A third party assured me that the passage made more sense ‘in context.’ The passage itself seemed baffling to me, but honestly the passage didn’t intrigue me nearly as much the response to the passage. What made people convinced it was a ‘Jehovah’s Witness’ thing? It came from the same religious text they were using, but it was filtered in such a different way… and in a way that was somehow understood by two people who described themselves in the same basic way but who had never met or discussed the notion.
I guess I’ve just come to realise that any religious understandings are remarkably complex and nuanced. And I’ve never actually had that be conveyed to me from anyone before. I do wonder why.
EDIT: What appears above was written several weeks ago. I actually have since had the good fortune to hear a talk given by the former Bishop of Edinburgh Richard Holloway at the Sydney Writers’ Festival (albeit in podcast form, some time later). Mr. Holloway is a fascinating individual, I hope to be able to read some of his work in the future. I found his Shaking The Kaleidoscope talk very comforting on a lot of different levels, but mostly I found it illuminating on this particular subject. His talk offered a framework for religious belief that helped me contextualise some of the thoughts I’ve articulated above. I’d love to pontificate on his talk and perhaps I will at another time, but it really helped me immensely.
John, you’ve been Americanised! (or should I say ‘Americanized’?) We don’t have Episcopalians here, they’re called Anglicans.
Keep in mind too when you think about denominations that most people I have met completely support other people in choosing a different denomination. Apart from the crazies, they mostly see it as a matter of taste and emphasis what church you choose (like preferring jazz music over metal) rather than a matter of eternal import.