Religion?

Is There Anybody Up There - Or At Least Within Shouting Distance?

Everyone knows the wise old advice never to discuss religion or politics in mixed company. Everyone also knows that the most enjoyable conversations you will ever have involve discussions of religion and politics in mixed company. Truths like these are part of the reason that human beings are prone to ignore all forms of advice, and even of wisdom. Furthermore, if any of this drivel sounds like wisdom to you, reread all of it again, skipping every fourth word. These thoughts are random observations reduced to simplest form, sort of like a math skill you worked on in fifth or sixth grade.

So we’ll start with the obvious. Virtually every great civilization has been built around human recognition of a higher force in the world. They have called the force by a plethora of names, and with a bevy of incarnations and imagined shapes. To my knowledge, however, God has never been named Hollingsworth, and he or she or it has never resembled a gas grill. Other than that, almost anything goes. Therefore, thus, and hence, there must be a god. The collective consciousness of millions and millions of people can’t all be wrong.

Perhaps this little analogy will work for you. Most of the people you run into in the literature field agree that Shakespeare was a great writer. Why should you or I tend to believe this? How could all those people be wrong? It’s as simple as that. If there is no God, then generations have been duped by an incredible far-reaching and well-orchestrated scam. What are the chances of this? Careful study of people reveals that you cannot randomly collect fifteen people who will agree on any one thing. Try it. Ask a group of fifteen people the color of the sky. We all know that it’s blue, but some one crazy in the group will undoubtedly call the sky azure, or gray, or some other shade that only women and gay men can distinguish. (I mean, what the hell are taupe, mauve, magenta, and fuchsia? If you know the answer to these questions, read the last sentence over again.) Yet that same group of people will probably concede the existence of some higher force in the world. (And by the way, I intend no offense to the gay men of the world. I merely have noted that many of them care about distinctions in color, and I personally don’t.)

So God isn’t dead, at least as far as I know. And though I can’t prove it, I’m more certain of this than the idea that the universe as we know it is some grand accident. We humans are compelled to procreate, to raise our young, to provide for families. Our ability to do so for a number of millennia is an accident?

On the other hand, we have earthworms. Earthworms are food, and aerators. They perform various other functions in the ground that help things to grow, which provides food for herbivores, and materials for building and clothing and so on. They are also still the best bait for catching sunfish, bass, catfish, and your little brother’s trousers.

So these things are true, more or less. But all around us, scientists, naturalists, biologists and the like, find unique harmony and equilibrium and symbiotic relationships between unrelated organisms. Are all these interrelationships incidental, or evolutionary? Is it possible that all of the organisms that didn’t perform some complementary function for another organism became extinct? If so, then where did all those now extinct organisms come from in the first place?

I suppose the simplest way to put it all is this: I am convinced that there is a God, in the most basic way, because the accident theory doesn’t ring true for me. Everywhere I look, accidents cause disorder, devastation, and destruction. Why on this humungous scale would an ancient cosmological accident result in order and interconnectedness? In the end, the accident theory just doesn’t make sense. Maybe there’s somebody out there who can give me a workable analogy to explain how this one giant mistake wrought such a beautiful world, but I doubt it.

So there is a God. If you choose not to believe, then you ought to come up with some workable theory besides the accident concept. If there is a God, or a higher power, then what is it, or he, or she? The only thing that makes sense to me is that God is the force that gives things life.

A human being is composed of all sorts of materials, and elements, and water, but should we dump these things in proper proportions into a giant tub, we would not generate life. So life is the thing, the inexplicable thing, which animates. The force, mystics and philosophers have told us, (though I never fully trust them,) that the force is the same for all living things.

Believing in this force, or this God, is not so hard. Think of it merely as a substitute for the accident that binds or unites all things. God does not need to have a face, though many religious people put a face on their respective gods. What follows the faith in a higher force is the important part.



So What Does Any of This Have To Do With ME?


It seems fitting that I admit at this point that I consider myself a practicing Catholic, although I am pretty sure that I need more practice. But before you write me off as a zealot, or as some heretical Catholic spouting new-age mumbo jumbo, let me put things simply. I would like to be relatively serious here while I explain about the practicing parts of life.

Church is a place to go as part of a routine, so that you have the opportunity to think about all the things that you have no time to consider in the normal course of the week. Church is a place for philosophy, for reflection, and for resolution.

At Church, the readings from the Bible, and the recitation of prayers, and the homily or sermon, and the celebration of the Mass, and the celebration of Communion: these are all designed for one basic purpose. During all these parts of the service, a person has a chance to hear of a firm, fixed, complete philosophy. I don’t care if someone I meet is Jewish, or Protestant, or Muslim, or Hindu. I am a Catholic simply because I was raised to be a Catholic. Sure, when I was little, I teased my Protestant friends about praying to the one true Catholic God, but I don’t feel certain that my religious organization has a monopoly on wisdom, faith, or salvation. Catholicism is the philosophy that I think I know. Any 2000 year old philosophy will probably do for the rest of you.

In the course of the Mass, while I am being reminded of the philosophy, I get a chance to check and to measure my faith with my acts. If the service or the sermon reminds me to be kind to others, and I haven’t been, I get a chance to consider and reflect on where I am and where I am going.

For instance, their Creator has endowed my young kids with the ability to infuriate me. They do so in various ways, such as asking me to rebuild a bicycle the minute I get in the door from work. When the church service preaches kindness, and I reflect on the arc and distance of my child’s free-fall through the living room as a consequence of his untimely request, I get the opportunity to reflect on the advisability of my behavior. In other words, I might refrain from hurling the boy who picks a bad moment to ask a favor.

This happened recently, and I have concluded that there should be no throwing of children. I also may reflect on the times that I have been surly, gruff, sarcastic, or downright nasty to my wife. I don’t know about you, but there are few things in the daily routine of life that might provoke the recognition of these basic human errors.

Thirdly, and most practically, having reflected on my behaviors, I am given the chance to resolve to do better. Sure, I will probably over time resort to engaging in the same unacceptable behaviors. However, the alternative, not going to church, not reflecting or resolving, I will most assuredly continue most of the dumb things I do. In the end, church provides the attendee a chance to fine-tune his philosophy, to evaluate his behavior, and to resolve to fix things a bit.
Do people really need to do these things all the time, once a week or more? To be honest, I think most people do. I spoke with a friend recently, who bemoaned the lack of time and attention he had spent on his kids recently. The conversation came up because I was talking about taking the kids to Church that morning.
“You do a lot more things with your kids than I do,” he said.
“Then do more,” I said.
“I just don’t have the time,” he replied.
“Are you stupid?” I asked.
He said, somewhat surprised by my lack of tact, “Huh?”
“You feel it’s wrong to spend so little time with your kids, but you won’t make any resolution to do better. Only stupid people see something wrong and accept it. Normal people figure out ways to get what they want.”
“What business is it of yours?” he snarled.
“Two things here.” I told him. “You brought it up. And you made me feel sorry for you and your kids. As soon as you put it in front of my face and engage my sympathies, it is my business. Only stupid people would feel bad about something and not say anything.”
“You’re right,” he said, "you going to go play hoops next Sunday?"

DIGRESSION: I feel compelled to say that the conversation related above is pretty true to form. However, you should also know that the other participant and I have been friends for more than ten years, and he is truly a responsible, loving dad. He felt guilty because he is a good dad. I and other men are sometimes guilty of speaking too bluntly, especially to one another, but in this case, the other father and I were pretty comfortable with it.

I don’t know for sure if the man resolved to do better about spending time with his kids, but I do know that my visit to my friendly neighborhood house of God had caused that conversation. And I sincerely believe that hearing my blunt opinion was a good thing for him. He may have been secretly offended, and he may have tuned me out, but if someone he respects gives similar advice, then the chance for a resolution on his part increases.

Church can do that.

Now there are more opinion, ideas, and benefits to regular Church attendance, but they pale by comparison to these basics. Perhaps I’ve been too superficial here, but I think that you’ve gotten the amount of philosophy that normal people can deal with in one sitting. We should find something to believe in simply because the alternative is uncertainty to the highest degree. It also makes new problems interesting. You can check with your minister what the official answer is to a problem, and then you have one firm idea on how to act. You may not do it, but at least you have a starting point for your deliberation. Three or four visits to church might even give you enough time to figure it out for yourself.

And for those of you who protest that you need no pre-packaged philosophical crutch against which to evaluate your ideas and behaviors --- I say this: isn’t it awfully presumptuous of you? You think that the collective knowledge and wisdom of the ages doesn’t apply to you? A "yes" answer would make you one of the stupid people.

I don’t think you need any particular church or God or ‘ism’ to govern all aspects of your life. But you ought to have a place, a ritual, an operator’s manual at your disposal - and a flawed memory of what you learned in catechism class is not the answer. First of all, it’s out of print, and second of all, you didn’t really get it when you learned to recite it.


So Religion Is A Crutch - For Weak People?


Former pro wrestler and former governor of Minnesota, Jesse Ventura, is a common sense type of guy. I kind of like the fact that he isn't the standard politician. And I believe his 'no nonsense' approach to governing will result in more good than bad for his constituents. But he made a name for himself recently by calling religious-minded people nasty names.

Jesse said that religious people were weak, and cowardly, and that they used religion as a crutch. I say, "Of course, you big dope." Philosophy, and faith, and hope are always the things that people fall back on when they are afraid, or powerless, or temporarily frustrated. The people who rely upon their faith aren't weak and cowardly, or less than stalwart at every moment. Their faith is the weapon of choice when they suffer weakening or strength-sapping setbacks. More importantly, the philosophy they follow is one of the reasons they raise their children well, treat their neighbors kindly, and make the world a more pleasant place.

The problem is that non-religious people have fewer weapons than religious people do. Sure, one can say that non-religious people learn to rely on themselves, but they resort to a stock of weapons that are bad news for most Minnesotans.

No, I am not maintaining that religious people never resort to crime. Of course they do sometimes. However, people with no philosophy, no religion, no faith: they resort to guns and knives much sooner, and with more malice than their counterparts. The weapons of choice when faith is not in the arsenal are brute strength, chicanery, and deceit.

And yes, there are plenty of hypocrites and zealots. The churches have no monopoly on these psychoses. Some NRA members are zealots and hypocrites, as are some pro athletes and entertainers. Don't bother to blame hypocrisy and zeal on religion. These failings are human; there is no escaping them.

The reason it seems that religion breeds these deviants is that religious zealots and hypocrites use their false faith as a platform and as an excuse. Since pro sports do not embody a philosophy, an athlete is hard-pressed to lean upon his organization to justify his excesses. However, some recent idiotic athletes have tried.