Taking Religious Claims Seriously. (Value Inquiry Book)

TAKING RELIGIOUS CLAIMS SERIOUSLY A Philosophy of Religion TAKING RELIGIOUS CLAIMS SERIOUSLY A Philosophy of Religion ...

Author: Warren E. Steinkraus

40 downloads 1023 Views 4MB Size Report

This content was uploaded by our users and we assume good faith they have the permission to share this book. If you own the copyright to this book and it is wrongfully on our website, we offer a simple DMCA procedure to remove your content from our site. Start by pressing the button below!
Report copyright / DMCA form

DOWNLOAD PDF

TAKING RELIGIOUS CLAIMS SERIOUSLY A Philosophy of Religion

TAKING RELIGIOUS CLAIMS SERIOUSLY A Philosophy of Religion

Warren E. Steinkraus

Edited by

Michael H. Mitias

Amsterdam - Atlanta, GA 1998

Cover design by Chris Kok based on a photograph, ©1984 by Robert Ginsberg, of statuary by Gustav Vigeland in the Frogner Park, Oslo, Norway.

© The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of "ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents Requirements for permanence". ISBN: 90-420-0403-7 ©Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam - Atlanta, GA 1998 Printed in The Netherlands

CONTENTS Editorial Foreword ONE

Orientation 1. A Few Observations 2. Religion and Superstition 3. Religion and Science

TWO

Religious Diversity, Reason, and Truth 1. Shortcut Efforts to Solve the Problem of Religious Disagreement by Means Other than Reason 2. What Do We Mean by the Use of Reason in Religious Claims? 3. More on Reason and Religion

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

Factual Claims 1. Devices Used by Regular Historians to Check and Discover Facts 2. Extraordinary Factual Claims Crucial to Faith 3. Levels of Criticism of Current Extravagant Claims 4. Other Observations 5. A Look at Crucial Factual Claims and How These May Be Handled The Concept of God 1. May God Be Viewed as One or Many—Monotheism or Polytheism? 2. Is God Conscious or Unconscious? 3. What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? 4. How Is God Related to the Good and Valuable? 5. What Is the Relation of God to Time, History, and Events? God and Arguments 1. The Argument from Religious Experience 2. The Argument from Beauty and Design in the Natural World 3. The Argument from the Alleged Need of a Cause 4. The Argument from Moral Standards and the Status of Values

IX

1 1 7 9 11 15 24 27 33 34 40 42 45

47 53 54 56 62 70 72 77 80

83 87 89

VI

CONTENTS The Argument from the KnowabiUty of the World ofNature 6. Abstract Arguments 7. Grounds for Denying the Existence of God 8. Opponents of Theism from Within Religion

97 101 102 108

Value, Evil, and Suffering 1. Empirical Findings 2. A Critical Look at the Empirical Findings . 3. Attempts at Solutions 4. Answers That Explain Evil as Essentially Unreal 5. Answers That Reinterpret Evil as Disguised or Unknown Good 6. Pragmatic or Poetic Solutions 7. The Solution That Concludes No God Exists at All 8. Reconsidering the Nature and Idea of God 9. Concluding Comments

127 130 131 132 {35

SEVEN

The Religious Experience of Worship and Prayer 1. Reports of Individual Experiences 2. Varieties of Religious Experience 3. Worship 4. Positive and Negative Results of Worship 5. Prayer 6. General Types of Prayer 7. Further Observations on Prayer 8. Other Characteristic Problems 9. More Problems Regarding Prayer 10. Objections to Prayer

137 137 138 139 144 147 147 149 149 151 153

EIGHT

Claims about How a Person Should Live 1. Religious Demands 2. Ethical Demands

155 155 162

NINE

Religious Claims about the Person 1. The Ontological Status of the Individual 2. Does the Individual Have a Free Will? 3. The Axiological Nature of the Finite Individual

171 173 179 182

TEN

Claims about the Future: Immortality 1. Grounds for Denying the Existence of Survival in Any Form 2. Grounds for Supporting Some View of Immortality 3. Impersonal or Objective Immortality

185

SIX

111 112 115 119 125

188 190 194

Taking Religious Claims Seriously 4. 5. 6. 7.

Pre-Existence Individual Survival versus Reincarnation Conditional Immortality Claims about Future General History: Eschatology

VI1

194 195 196 197

ELEVEN

The Cognitive Question 1. Analyses of the Character of Religious Language 2. Critical Evaluation and Questions 3. The Cognitive View

201 207 210 216

TWELVE

Further Problems 1. Criticisms of Religion: External and Internal 2. Additional Questions for Consideration

221 225 227

Notes

231

Bibliography

237

About the Author

241

About the Editor

245

Index

247

EDITORIAL FOREWORD This book is a rational, systematic, and comprehensive analysis of the following question: What are the foundation, essential elements, and purpose of religion as such—not of particular religions, whether of the past or present, whether of the East or West, but of the phenomenon of religion as a historical fact that played, and continues to play, a formative role in shaping the structure, content, and direction of human civilization? For Warren E. Steinkraus, religion is grounded in religious experience, which itself is based on a thoughtful, vibrant, reverent, and responsive consciousness of an Ultimate Being as the creator and governor of nature and human history. This experience is, moreover, the basis of religion as an institution, that is, as a set of beliefs, doctrines, creeds, rituals, practices, traditions, and rules of conduct—in short, as a way of life based on an understanding of the Ultimate Being. Is this understanding acquired directly by rational insight or by some kind of revelation? This is perhaps the most difficult question in the philosophy of religion, mainly because the Ultimate is not given to human experience as an object of ordinary experience. Yet the various world religions seem to have an exclusive, clear, valid, and final understanding of the Ultimate, of its essence, will, and purpose. Thus, questions such as the following necessarily arise: How do we know that an Ultimate exists in the first place? Supposing it exists, and supposing it has created the totality of the world including human destiny, how do we know its will or purpose? Religion is essentially grounded in a claim about this will or purpose. Accordingly, we can view the. diversity of human religions as a diversity of religious claims about the sort of being the Ultimate is and about its plan, its will, and the way it rules the world. - Steinkraus's Taking Religious Claims Seriously: A Philosophy of Religion is a critical study of these religious claims, of their meaning, validity, and the extent to which upholding them ennobles human life. His method of analysis is phenomenological. Unlike the majority of philosophers of religion, Steinkraus has first mapped the vast domain of religions. Next, he placed them on the table of philosophical analysis, proceeding to examine their claims with the utmost care, rational scrutiny, and objectivity. He was guided throughout by one important concern: What are the essential truths undergirding the fabric of religion as a meaningful human adventure? He has meticulously considered every significant question, idea, peculiarity, contribution, value, or practice of literate religions. Steinkraus's mind is encyclopedic, revealing extensive yet deep knowledge and appreciation of both literate and preliterate religions. For him, religion should be envisioned as a human achievement that proudly stands next to science, technology, philosophy, art, and the sociopolitical institutions that played a constructive role in the development of civilization. Most important, we cannot understand religion as such unless we critically investigate its source—religious experience—because the religious claims that constitute the structure of religion are embedded in this source.

X

EDITORIAL FOREWORD

Moreover, the reader of this book will readily see that in his analysis and evaluation of the major questions, concepts, assumptions, and values of world religions, Steinkraus has spoken with two voices. The first is the voice of the truly religious person, the person who makes serious religious claims. Here we have in mind the ordinary person who struggles daily for survival, who feels pain, pleasure, guilt, elation, frustration, joy, and despair, who loves and falls into the trap of envy, hate, animosity, violence, and selfishness, who seeks justice, peace, and freedom, who in short builds culture. The religious claims that are the highest object of analysis for the philosopher of.religion originate from the soul of this kind of person regardless of whether he or she is a saint, prophet, social reformer, teacher, politician, businessperson, farmer, scientist, artist, or homemaker. Thus, the Ultimate that Steinkraus seeks to study in this book is not the Ultimate (God) of the metaphysician, theologian, or scientist but the being or power that moves people in their daily pursuits and that inspires them in their hope and struggle for a more decent life. The second voice with which Steinkraus speaks is the voice of the philosopher. As a philosopher, he is motivated by a profound passion for understanding, for truth. His singular aim is to understand the meaning of the religious as such. But this understanding cannot be accomplished without examining the fine fabric and subtle claims of the different religions of the world. This examination proceeds through critical analysis, reasoning, comparison, evaluation, and the revelation of insight. Reading Taking Religious Claims Seriously is, in short, an intellectual adventure into the foundation of the mosaic of human religions. Warren E. Steinkraus is an axiologist par excellence. He has written extensively on important issues in the areas of aesthetics, ethics, and social and political philosophy, but in writing this book he distinguished himself as one of the most perceptive, authoritative, and challenging philosophers of religion. The present work is based on actual encounters with the religions of the Far East, Africa, and the Middle East, on personal discussions and debates with Indian, Japanese, Chinese, African, Western, and Middle Eastern scholars, and on vast knowledge of the literature of the literate religions. He was always open for ideas that may reveal a new aspect of religion or the religious experience, and he was doing research on this book until his death in February 1990. The manuscript that Warren E. Steinkraus left was complete. In revising it, I modified some passages and added a few sentences and passages on the basis of the copious remarks, quotations, and references that he left. The text contains several unfootnoted quotations, mainly because of difficulties in identifying their sources. Barbara Steinkraus was most gracious and patient in compiling the manuscript for me. I am grateful to her for her loving contribution. I am also grateful to Robert Ginsberg for asking me to prepare the manuscript for publication. Without his encouragement and support, this book would not have seen the light of day! Michael H. Mitias

One ORIENTATION A fair-minded discussion of the claims of religious people throughout the world suggests the need for a brief rehearsal of some of the salient facts about religious phenomena and a corresponding concern for making some distinctions, without which a proper understanding is unlikely. Unfortunately, many who have expressed themselves negatively about the scope of religious experience—its meanings and its claims—have displayed an unconscionable lack of basic information and a surprising inability to notice distinctions and differences within the vast fund of human religious thought and activities. We simply cannot, as persons pursuing a philosophical investigation of religious claims, begin with the distilled arguments of a few Western thinkers, analyze them logically, and think we have done our job. An appreciation of how religion operates across time and space demands that we acquaint ourselves with basic facts before we work out some neat, inclusive conclusions that preclude alternatives. 1. A Few Observations (1) Eleven religions are currently practiced throughput the. world. Each has traditions, Scriptures, defenders, critics, and spokespersons. We may group them historically and geographically. The first group includes those of primarily Indian origin: Hinduism, Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism. Hundreds of millions of Hindus and Buddhists, about two million Jains, and perhaps six million Sikhs exist throughout the world. The second group includes religions of Middle Eastern origin: Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. The third group consists of those of the Far East: Confucianism, Taoism, and Shintoism. A current world almanac estimates the number of adherents of each. Of these, only the oldest, the Zoroastrian faith, may be said to be diminishing because they admit no converts. These eleven religions are world-wide. Even the most, nationalistic—Shintoism, largely confined to Japan—has sectarian offshoots found in many countries. Other religions of recent origin have emerged. However, in every case thus far, they may be viewed as in some way the offspring of these eleven even though they usually claim utter uniqueness. Some have striven for individuality and have cut themselves off from their roots. The Bahai tradition has its roots in a branch of Islam, though it is now vastly different from it. Soka Gakkai is a popular offshoot of Buddhism and Shintoism, just as Mormonism and Christian Science have roots in the Christian tradition. That any new religion of significance has appeared since the sixteenth century, when Sikhism was

2

ORIENTATION

founded, is doubtful. And even Sikhism was a brilliant effort at synthesizing elements of Hinduism and Islam, now quite individualistic. (2) While other religions are scattered across the planet, they are nonliterate, and though spokespersons have begun to appear seeking to articulate their features, these religions are still regarded as "primitivistic." Remarkably, the features found in religious practices of aboriginal Australians are comparable to ones found among the practices of some native American religions, west Africans, Philippine Islanders, and Melanesians. Students will find that the work of anthropologists provides fascinating material on this topic. (3) Several religions of antiquity are no longer living in any sense, but they seem to have had some influence on currently practiced faiths. Note, for example, that we have evidence of religious activities from peoples in Paleolithic and Neolithic time periods. We think readily of the religions of Babylonia, Egypt, Greece, and Rome, as well as those striking defunct religions of Central America. Also entrancing are the Druids and the religious practices of the wandering tribes of ancient Europe. Some idiosyncratic minor efforts to initiate ancient rites of witchcraft or revive seasonal rituals, such as Stonehenge, are inconsequential and may scarcely be regarded as serious. (4) Each of the eleven major religions has divisions within it, some deep, some sectarian or denominational. These divisions may be organizational, ideological, or both. Thus, we find two major types of Buddhism—the Mahayana and the Theravada. Each of these has further subtypes numbering in the hundreds. The Buddhism of Nepal and Tibet is so different from the Buddhism of Sri Lanka and Thailand as to suggest they are different religions. The rifts between Roman Catholic, Orthodox, and Protestant sections of Christianity are significant, but they have definite elements in common. Muslims similarly have divisions—the Suimi and the Shiite—each of which has sects and subsects, though respect for Mohammed and the Koran is both uniform and mandatory. Some Taoists are of an intellectual sort, while other Taoists perform witchcraft. Differences abound. Some, as in the case of the Jains, focus on which Scriptures may be regarded as authoritative. Others differ as to what are the proper interpretations of Holy Writ, as do Jews and Chi'istians. Doctrinal matters, such as the role of the sacraments or theories of the atonement, produce more divisiveness in Christianity. A devotional act in the Saivite emphasis of Hinduism may be rejected outright by one whose Hinduism is viewed from a Vaishnavite or Tantric perspective. Recognition of such internal differences gives pause when initiating potentially destructive criticisms of some faith in general. (5) Most of the major religions as well as the lesser ones have undergone some transformations during the years and are still undergoing development— perhaps evolution and maybe even devolution. The growth factor in religion helps us come to appreciate internal differences. Accordingly, some people claim to be the proper guardians of the "original" faith while others accept newer interpretations. When the Brahmo Samaj developed in India a century

A Few Observations

3

ago with a view to accommodating some features of Western religion into Hinduism, the Arya Samaj shortly arose, which was in effect a "back to the Vedas" movement to restore the "original" teachings. Vitally important to the philosophy of religion is the recognition of internal changes and developments. For example, the idea of God manifest in the earliest days of ancient Hebrew religion was not the same idea voiced by the eighth-century prophets. The earliest teaching identified Yahweh as a tribal deity. Later Jewish thought maintained that the Supreme One was the Lord of all nations and was as much concerned with the Egyptians as with the Jews. To criticize a view of God as an Oriental despot, bloodthirsty and vengeful, is relatively easy; but to judge negatively a God of all nations whose character is merciful and conciliatory is not so easy. (6) We must also recognize that each of the major religions has had and does now have thoughtful, articulate spokespersons and leaders who are quite prepared to discuss the bases for their views, to listen to critics, and to offer defenses that appeal to logic and experience, not merely to authority, feeling, or tradition. Always have some leaders announced that rational justification is impossible, but in the long history of philosophical thought their number is minuscule. We need think only of the Upanishads, those brilliant intellectual efforts to explicate the religion of the Vedas to inquiring minds. Even though Gautama the Buddha seems to have taught that arguments about doctrine did not make for edification, many later Buddhist thinkers have been prepared to explicate and even challenge their faith on rational grounds. Apparently, we may not honestly discount the value or truth of a religious claim until we have heard it in its best form as set forth by devout yet informed, thoughtful leaders. (7) Moreover, levels of activity and levels of religious consciousness exist within each religion. Just as in the general realm of literature some people enjoy and prefer popular magazine romances to Shakespeare or James Joyce, so too can we see levels of religious awareness and understanding. Just as all operatic excellence is not found in the pleasingly delightful works of Gilbert and Sullivan, so too in religious awareness and practice a similar difference is manifest. Truly devout worshipers in the differing religions have more in common with each other than they do with nominal followers in their own religion. A Christian mystic finds more intrinsic fellowship with a Sufi or Hindu mystic than with an ordinary churchgoer who visits the cathedral or synagogue only on annual holy days or for weddings, baptisms, and funerals. Such levels of religious awareness are absolutely vital. This is not just a distinction between professionals and laypersons, for some professionals have little genuine religion and some laypersons evince profundity. This recognition helps us appreciate philosophical problems more squarely. We must regularly ask the critic whom they are arguing against, what form of belief they are judging. Whether philosophical arguments opposed to religion have ever been addressed to the lives and thought of saints is doubtful. And few saints have ever paused to worry about attackers who showed not the slightest

4

ORIENTATION

understanding of their experience and motivation. 1 have yet to find a philosophical critic discussing Saint Francis, Saint Vincent de Paul, Rabbi Heschel, Sri Ramakrishna, or Lord Buddha and the like. Can they remain unmoved by the work and lives of such people in their scurrying to find logical flaws in their implied intellectual beliefs? Even the most jaded atheist must have some respect for Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. And can professional skeptics or magazine atheists begin to be their equals? Even A. J. P. Taylor, the brilliant British historian who has no use whatever for religion, remarked that the Quakers are one of the best things thaMias happened to the human race. This seventh observation has a corollary: Just as levels of religious awareness and achievement exist, so too do levels of criticism and types of opponents of religious beliefs. Some critics are of the jotirnalistic type, naive and uninformed, looking to ridicule or poke—persons George Berkeley called "minute philosophers," such as magazine atheists, who make grimaces at theism but whose only view of things is weak. Others seek to be sympathetic but have little resilience. If talking about music, they would be unable to distinguish Mozart from Tschaikowsky, and in literature they could not tell Wordsworth from Pope. Nor could they distinguish Da Vinci from Van Gogh or little league baseball from the Red Sox. Accordingly, some critics are simple and some are sophisticated. Not all philosophers betray sophistication. Sociological and scientific critics may make worthwhile observations, but whether they grasp the phenomenological claims of religion is doubtful. Fortunately, some trained philosophic minds well-versed in the ways of religion through background and study nevertheless reject the claims of religious belief. Those persons we must heed. (8) 1 now list some of the types or levels of religious response found throughout the world. (i) No religious sensitivity at all. Like color-blind persons or those who are tone deaf, some persons have no interest in or feeling for religious claims. (ii) Reluctant recognition but a hesitancy to endorse or approve of any religious ideas or claims. They are not quite ready to despise it, and, like the husband who hates operas, occasionally will participate in it if a member of the family asks them. (iii) The nominal or incidentally religious person. The religious belief never makes a difference in thought or in life, though in some celebrations and occasions religion seems useful. They assent to religious weddings and fimeral ceremonies, would be offended to see their tradition doubted, and would be struck dumb if anyone really practiced it. These people cannot imagine giving up religious holidays, but they care little about religious claims to truth or to our life. (iv) The practical, interested, and loyal believer. The bulk of religious people in the world are in thiscategory. They find some satisfaction in religious belief, when their needs are met, and they engage in regular acts of piety—

A Few Observations

5

visiting the sick, helping others in time of trouble, giving support to humanitarian causes, and providing funds for education, hospitals, and culture when asked. They have respect for their tradition but generally are not much interested in questions of truth or in discussing the grounding of their faith. (v) Thoroughly committed believers. Here the active follower organizes life around his or her religious beliefs. They study their faith, try to live up to it, and constantly seek to be and do better. Religious criteria inform morality, patriotism, life's goals and even vocation. Religious belief puts the believer in tension with society and culture. Some separate themselves from it (for example, the Amish), some try to transform it from within, and a few are revolutionaries. At worst, these believers can become fanatics as in some fans of Islamic Shiism and Christian Fundamentalism. (vi) Saints or holy persons. These people are so devout and committed that they are recognized as great exemplars of their tradition and viewed as saints. The lives they live are generally respected by persons outside of the tradition. They are exceptional people in every sense, but primarily in their dedication to the service of others. They often renounce early possessions, sometimes family, and always selfish aims. If mental problems are associated with such saints, they are overlooked because of the benefits their devotion brings to others. (vii) In some religions, we speak of yet a higher type of religious life. This occurs primarily in Hinduism, as in the attainment of divinity, samadhi. Some persons are recognized as having attained divine status in this life, and this level of spirituality is so high that their followers worship them as living gods. Theoretically, they are souls who have overcome all karma and become identified with the Supreme Being. Western religious believers, especially Muslims, regard this not only as presumptuous but as blasphemous. We may safely say that all of the eleven religions recognize the sixth category. Only Hinduism, and possibly Buddhism and Jainism, would accept this seventh possibility. Now, if our sources of awareness for religious phenomena and claims are limited to reports from persons of the first three types indicated above, that we will or can give a fair account or appraisal of religious claims is unlikely. (9) In addition to different levels of human response to religion, notice also some different emphases reflected in the lives of persons who are more than nominally or incidentally interested in religious phenomena. These are modes of appreciating or understanding religious phenomena. (i) The intellectualistic mode. Here the person thinks primarily about ideational questions and topics. He or she is interested in doctrines, creeds, confessions, or the conceptual materials of active religion. Obviously, the majority of religious believers have little interest in conceptual matters or even in truth as such. They assume the truth of their adopted religion and are not worried about thought problems or intellectual puzzles. But the philosophical mind relishes intellectual issues and might think on occasion that religion can

6

ORIENTATION

be set aside as full of sound and fury if he or she can but show some logical difficulties in a belief or truth claim: "Sometimes, however, intellectualism in religion is the result of atrophy of the emotional and ethical sides of character." (ii) The aesthetic approach. Persons with this tendency display little interest in truth or intellectual matters; they are concerned with the mode, manner, and techniques of religious expression. A real love is shown for ceremonies, fine music, charming atmospheres, beautiful temples, and liturgical order. Priestly functions must be performed with exactitude and in the accepted traditional way. This aspect of religion—its literary, ritualistic, and generally emotionally satisfying features—entice many .sensitive persons to allegiance and practice. (iii) The ecstatic type. Here the emphasis is on having uplifting experiences. Indeed, some persons actively seek to cultivate moving and vital experiences. On one level, a person may engage in religious activities to promote peace of mind or internal security. On another, someone may seek strong experiences of the divine, either in the form of dramatic emotional response or in some state of blissful mystical awareness. Religion experientially based has been a powerful force in human history. In the Christian tradition, some people seek "holiness," the "witness of the spirit," or even glossolalia (speaking in tongues), while in Hinduism a person may through meditation lose self-awareness and concentrate only on the supreme. Yogic disciplines are aimed at seeking profound experiences, and they have their counterparts in almost every major religion. Heightened experiences are taken by some as firm evidence of the truth of their claims. Some religious doctrines, however, deemphasize human religious experience. Not many philosophers have been sympathetic to reports of ecstatic worshipers, realizing that similar experiences in different cultures are differentiated merely by elaborate interpretive mechanisms and clarifications. (iv) The moral emphasis. Confucianism, while putting some stress on proper ceremony, is primarily motivated by ethical matters. Beliefs seem incidental. Other religions too have had strong concerns for promoting righteousness. Jesus praised those who "hungered and thirsted after righteousness." This desire may be viewed as the voluntaristic mode of religious response. The emphasis is on duty and obedience, not on particular ideas, ceremonial correctness, or the having of vital experiences. Some thinkers, such as Immanuel Kant, virtually identified morality with religion. The concern here is not limited to private or individual morality but exten'ds to society, politics, and economics, as well as international relations. The moral approach is illustrated acutely in the tension between the eighth-century Hebrew prophets and the priestly conservatives they opposed. (v) The institutional interest. Considerable numbers of active religious devotees are motivated and interested in organizational matters. They find satisfaction in group behavior that is linked with institutions and linked with a vital tradition. The subtle differences in Tibetan Buddhism are seemingly

Religion and Superstition

7

primarily organizational matters, including units at different levels, types and subtypes of brothers, presbyters, prebendaries, monsignors, and archimandrites, and a great love of order and acceptance of hierarchies. One concern is the promotion of unity within some faiths; another is the seeking of unity among faiths. Ecumenism—the bringing together of peoples of diverse outlooks—bulks large in the world, as if mere union and institutional integrity had intrinsic merit. (vi) Religious phenomena may also be approached in a broad or synoptic way. Here, intellectual values, the love of beauty, ethical justice, and organizations may be taken into account. But an attempt is made to keep those tendencies in some kind of coherent relationship, respecting the diversity yet not allowing one mode or approach to be the sole or dominating one. To say that ideally most religious persons would strive to cultivate this broader approach is probably correct. To say so seems more philosophically sound while not becoming over-intellectual. 2. Religion and Superstition A.word must be said about the tendency of some intellectuals to equate all religion with superstition. The philosopher George Berkeley once wrote that "religion was a mean between incredulity and superstition." Religion is neither avoidance of belief nor an abundance of belief that accepts any event or idea, however wild. The German term for superstition is Aberglaube, which is distinguished from Glaube. Glaube means "belief." Aberglaube means "more or further belief, bordering on the excessive." That is a working definition of a superstition that helps us begin to see its difference from belief. I need do no more than mention the persistence of popular superstitions in daily life that are not linked to religious belief, such as fear of opening an umbrella in a house, breaking a mirror, having our path crossed by a black cat, or special acts of baseball players and the like. These minor things trade on the popular conflation of signs with causes, although no connection exists between a sign and a cause. Empirically speaking, we do in fact find events and practices in most of the eleven world religions that can be called superstitious, to say nothing of those religions now defunct and those we may with hesitation have classified as "primitive." We simply cannot add up instances of actual practices and ignore the teachings and practices of leaders and writers. Popular responses to mysteries, misfortune, and death are to be expected where reason, thought, and science have been neglected or suppressed. If we were to catalogue the apparent superstitious practices that have been associated with religion from its beginnings, we could easily conclude that not only is religion as practiced rife with superstition, but it is almost identical with it. But historical honesty will not allow this, for we see that some of the strongest opponents of the superstitious practices have been religious leaders

8

ORIENTATION

themselves. They have consciously offered religious belief as an alternative to superstition. In the Book of Isaiah we read: "And when they say consult the mediums and wizards who chirp and mutter . . . should not a people consult their God?" (Isa. 8:19). As early as the Book of Exodus, we find injunctions against sorcerers (22:18). In 1 Samuel (28:3), King Saul put the mediums and wizards out of the land. New Testament writers similarly oppose idolatry and sorcery (Gal. 5:19). In the Book of Acts, we read the report that Paul helped a slave girl who "had the spirit of divination" and who had brought gain to her masters. When they saw that their gain was gone, they got after Paul (16:16). We can trace an historic tension in other religions between those seeking a higher life of ethical fulfillment and justice and those who resort to trickery, sorcery, or magic. Gautama the Buddha opposed the practice of caste among the Hindus as well as the practice of bribing deities. Mahavira, founder of Jainism, abhorred the bloody animal sacrifices of the Hindus, who thought such sacrifices would win salvation. Mohammed was attacked by the traditionalists when he opposed such primitive tribal practices as infanticide and polytheism. Whenever we find a religious leader stressing the ethical life over trust in magical devices to secure wishes, as we find in Confucianism, we have a case of religious opposition to superstition. As much as a century ago, Moncure Conway observed: "But relatively to numbers the proportion of those free from religious superstition is as large in India as in England and America." However, when we survey actual practices today among the living religions, we still find a persistence of superstitious elements, which might lead us to generalize too quickly. We do not find thoughtful leaders defending or employing such things, but we might like to see Hindu thinkers make a more overt denunciation of palmistry, astrology, charms, or the claim that eating cauliflower in the winter is not wise. If a Muslim thinks that touching the Black Stone in the Kaaba may actually have a magical effect, that is superstition. But if treated as an object to recall holy events, such an act is scarcely as superstitious as twenty-one-gun tributes to known and unknown soldiers. Many popular acts are symbolic and practical and are not at all superstitious. Indeed, thinkers who judge religious practices so abruptly may well ponder their own tendencies to practical superstitions. Ron Hirschbein wrote: Just as Aztec priests insisted that only human sacrifices kept the world from ending, today's national security managers convince the faithful that only more nuclear weapons can preserve the peace. But philosophic critics of religion have since the earliest times been unable to see, as Berkeley saw, that the same kinds of criticisms can apply to their political or patriotic allegiances, which most hold uncritically and even fundementalistically. Those who too readily equate religion with superstition might recall that when it comes to new superstitions, such as flying saucers or occult practices,

Religion and Science

9

the "irreligious minds and liberals" are much more likely to accept them. The Fundamentalists appear most virtuous according to scientific standards when we examine the cults and pseudosciences proliferating in our society today. Based on statistical study among college students, born-again Christians have a strong tendency to reject several occult and pseudoscientific notions. Cults and individual occult activity tend to be most common where traditional churches are the weakest. Nevertheless, we must recognize that the move from Glaube to Aberglaube seems always ready to happen in religions. Undoubtedly, superstitious elements and practices can be found, but that does not give us the right to make random judgments about all religions or put off trying to understand the ideas of thoughtful proponents who themselves uniformly oppose superstitious practices. When confronted with religious diversity, confusions, and superstitions in the religious claims of humankind, we need to explore how our reason may help us. We simply may not initiate the study of religious claims by giving them the name of superstition. (Not only does it backfire, but it is simply unfair as well as untrue.) 3. Religion and Science No natural opposition or allegiance exists between science and religion. Some scientists are devout practicing religious believers and some scientists reject all religion emphatically. I am concerned here with what the relationship could be and is. Religious phenomena and claims have been approached from a scientific standpoint, giving rise to at least three sciences of religion: history of religion, psychology of religion, and sociology of religion. Sometimes these make empirical studies—finding facts, organizing them, measuring where possible, and even, on occasion, conducting experiments, as in the psychology of religion (which has both a theoretical and a practical thrust, as in psychotherapy). Consider also an important organization known as the Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, founded in 1949, with headquarters in Washington, D.C. A great deal of work has been done in all three areas and much light has been given in coming to appreciate the prolixities of religious phenomena. Were it not for the findings and reports of scientists studying religion, those who philosophize about it would be narrow indeed. Insofar as science is descriptive and searching, it is neutral on religion. When it makes blanket statements about religions based solely on empirical findings, it can hardly still be called science. Fortunately, this is not done often, but scholars such as James Frazer and, more recently, Joseph Campbell have extrapolated their anthropological findings into quasi-philosophies of religion without acknowledging what they have been doing. To the uncritical mind, this gives the impression that the theories and hypotheses generalizing about myths,

10

ORIENTATION

for example, are themselves findings of science. They are scarcely that. They are, instead, the judgments of skilled scientists offering theories that are themselves as questionable as any philosophical theory would be. Unfortunately, a reluctance exists to criticize such scientists.

Two

RELIGIOUS DIVERSITY, REASON, AND TRUTH The philosophical enterprise does not take its rise in some abstract way. It is undertaken because a need occurs, problems appear, and questions arise. In the last chapter, I noted the wide diversity of religious experience and the persistence of differences in claims about various ideas and meanings. The plain fact of diversity and downright disagreement incites philosophical attention to religious questions. An alert mind is even a bit curious as to what religious believers are actually saying and doing and is prompted to try to understand. Sometimes the committed religious person also begins to wonder whether philosophical activity can be of assistance in clarifying, if not eradicating, differences found between private beliefs and those of others who seem every bit as sincere and committed. We might ordinarily think that religious believers would themselves naturally be interested in truth for its own sake. That is not the case, nor has it been in the past. Religious believers are quick to claim that they have found the truth and that they do not need to search further. Some approach arrogance in asserting that they have the final answers. They have found a measure of satisfaction in what they believe, and while they are probably willing to improve and enrich their own religious life, they do not have much actual concern for the views and practices of people with a different faith. Most of them are simply not curious at all, even about opposing views held with fanatical fervor. Nor do philosophical problems posed by their own religious claims attract their attention. We have the paradox of those who claim to know the truth and who wish to tell others what it is, but who never for a moment wonder whether others might have more truth or a better mode of belief than they. If religious believers were really devoted to truth, they would at least consider alternatives. A leader of the active Soka Gakkai sect in Japan observed that the concrete benefits of religious devotees "are much more important than some abstract notion of 'truth,' which has little meaning for ordinary people." The Quaker philosopher Rufus Jones put it another way when he remarked that truth is a personal experience instead of a statement to which the mind gives assent. Note that one reason for the conflict between ordinary religious believers and intellectuals is that the intellectuals think of truth first and insist that their logical and evidential demands be met. They then take particular pleasure in asking simple and sincere believers for defenses and justifications of their beliefs, which by the very nature of the case those believers cannot provide. The slightly prejudiced intellectual then easily pokes fun at all religion, having

12

RELIGIOUS DIVERSITY, REASON, AND TRUTH

not often encountered persons who can discuss, or justify religious belief. This helps explain the successes of Robert Ingersoll in the last century and other professional unbelievers of the journalistic type who travel on the lecture circuit. Clearly, religious people come to their commitments as a result of other factors. The motivation for accepting a set of religious claims, if not merely because of cultural inheritance or social conditioning, is that a religion meets specific needs, including practical, emotional, aesthetic, social, and possibly some unconscious ones. When left to themselves, ordinary believers do not really know what they believe or why. They often do not know what the traditional language of their inherited or acquired faith intends. They may repeat it with piety but probably do not put it into their own words. They usually do not know how their beliefs differ from others nor what the points of contact are among religions. We might ask whether any religious persons are so devoted to truth that they would willingly surrender their beloved views to find it. Many may have the courage of their convictions; few have the courage to challenge their convictions. The same is equally true of actively irreligious persons. Thinking is always harder than avoiding thought. Accordingly, for religious people to listen to or acknowledge the ideas of a friendly, thoughtful critic is troublesome. Customarily, we do not want our religion brought out into the open for critical discussion, any more than we would like seriously to discuss our eating habits, clothing preferences, or other personal tastes. This is a furtive timidity. Paradoxically, religious people do talk about their beliefs, but not critically. They boast about the benefits they have received; they invite their friends to join them; they encourage youngsters to participate; they openly donate money and gifts; they urge their leaders to spread the good word; they exhibit symbols of their faith on their bodies or doorposts or bumper stickers; and in the USA they gloat over ostentatious religious television shows. Some are so sure they are right that they spend large sums on missionary enterprises to win others to their beliefs and practices, though not all religions are evangelistic. I now review some of the factors that make it difficult to engage in rational inquiry about religion. (1) Most people were not argued into their religious beliefs and most will not be argued out of them. The number of believers who conscientiously chose one set of beliefs after having considered alternatives is minuscule. So worry over rational truth is generally uncommon. However, converts from one religion to another—a Christian who becomes Hindu, for example—sometimes are well prepared to discuss the reasons for their switch because they have usually been schooled in the differences and advantages. (2) People participate in religious activities because they find satisfaction in them. Specific psychic, emotional, and social needs are met, longings satisfied, joys experienced, and bereavements comforted. As a result of some marked conversion experiences, some people have not only turned away from

Taking Religious Claims Seriously

13

fruitless and dissipated living but have found a new vocation as well as personal fulfillment. Where once they were disorganized personalities drifting lazily from random impulse to random impulse, a vivid religious awakening brings about a marked change. They see themselves and their families as well as their neighbors and peoples of the world in a new light. They want to be contributors to human well-being, not parasites on others. To get that sort of person to reconsider and evaluate objectively the truth of the transforming faith is almost impossible, though in honesty we must still raise questions about the quality and intent of striking turnabouts in personality. No transforming experience is self-validating, nor is it the final criterion of what constitutes true religion. Persons having experiences of fulfillment and self-realization cannot be argued out of their commitment by some clever intellectual who poses logical puzzles, especially if that intellectual is an unkind, self-centered pleasure seeker. (3) Religious people without scientific or philosophical temperament find it irksome to be curious or investigative about theological preferences. They view rational objectivity as both vexing and perilous. The position of one such person was ably characterized by Cecil Cadoux: "The bare possibility of finding my beliefs untrue is so distressing to me that the less I enquire after them the better." Those who have made an "existential commitment" to a religion feel that rational discussion might subvert their commitment or demolish its uniqueness. They allege that a person cannot both be a participant and a disinterested observer. The one erases the other. But that is not obviously true. (4) Sometimes tensions in religion do not yield to rational clarification because of a basic personality clash. In the early days of Christianity, we read how Paul and Barnabas worked together successfully. Then they split up. And the contention was so sharp between them, that they departed asunder one from the other: and so Barnabas took Mark and sailed unto Cyprus and Paul chose Silas and departed, being recommended by the brethren unto the grace of God. (Acts 15:39) We do not hear of Barnabas again. New sects are sometimes formed as a result of a personality clash. We can hardly expect rational discourse to occur among rival parties formerly harmonious. Deep divisions in Islam seem largely to be a result of competing leaders among early imams. Today such differences will be understood as doctrinal. Divisions among contemporary Hindus seem again to depend on strong leaders who gather followers, who then become strong partisans. When so much of the psychological is involved, we cannot expect much sustained interest in settling differences through rational inquiry. At this point, psychologists will provide more insight than any philosopher. Personality clashes occur in political and educational circumstances too and make for

14


unreasonable variations. Even a few psychologists have been known to be irrational toward opposing views. (5) Some differences among religions result from nothing more than geographical factors or historical accidents. These cannot be argued away. The devout Jain of the Digambara sect who is a strict vegetarian and wears no clothes can thrive on the Indian subcontinent, but he or she cannot persuade the Christian Laplander or traditional Eskimo to stop eating animal flesh or refrain from wearing furs. When individuals claim some vision, miracle, or divine visitation, such events are interpreted according to the locaj religious tradition. We do not see the Hindu goddess Parvati manifesting herself in the gardens of Spain. Nor does the Virgin Mary make any appearances to children in Tibet. Yet, we would think that manifestations of the Ultimate should not be conditioned by geographical parameters. To those outside of the Muslim community to hear it announced that the omnipotent power of the whole universe, Allah, gave his final revelation in the Arabic language is a marvel. A person living in Nigeria or Norway may become a Muslim but must learn the language of Allah. Chinese and Soviet Muslims must say their prayers in Arabic as well. Would Arabic still be required for worship on some remote planet outside of our galaxy? Rational arguments seem of no avail concerning such things. Again, many places in Europe and Asia have seen forcible conversions of whole populations by a conquering force or because of a ruler's preference. Except for its remaining architectural marvel, Borobudor, Buddhism disappeared from Indonesia, partly because of the impact of Islam. One accepted European formula in the sixteenth century was that the religious confession of the subject was to be dependent on that of the territorial leader. Simple British folk in the same century who became Protestants under Henry VIII and Edward VI were forced back into Catholicism under Queen Mary; they were then allowed to return to Protestantism under Queen Elizabeth. The clashes in Europe during the age of the Reformation produced much animosity. The differences persisting today are not so intense, yielding little argument. Lutherans in Sweden are not much interested in debating religious truth with Roman Catholics in Bavaria. Reason had little or nothing to do with the initial fixing of the faith. (6) In addition, even though they may not oppose discussion, sincere people do not inquire much about varying religious views because they have little time or energy for it. Few persons have the desire to become acquainted with the Scriptures, teachings, and history of other religions. They do not have the leisure or stamina to do so. When scholars find themselves frustrated in their efforts to master a new religion, how can laypersons be expected to do so? Indeed, if we persistently discussed and argued religious alternatives, we would be unable to practice any religion seriously. Moreover, even if we wished to try out differing religious truths on an experimental basis, we could scarcely succeed. Would a two-year experiment

Shortcut Efforts to Solve the Problem of Religious Disagreement

15

with Buddhism, followed by a two-year experiment with Confucianism, suffice for a person to make a decision? And why just two years? A decade might be needed for a fair experiment. What of marriage regulations and child-rearing? Can we experiment with these? Could a wife who enjoyed the relatively privileged status of Sikh or Parsee be willing to experiment with the rigors of Islamic law regarding the role of women or the strictures placed on widows by Orthodox Hinduism? Devotees of the Hindu saint, Sri Ramakrishna claim that he actually lived several religions at different times. He came to the conclusion that they were all one, but he did not investigate Shintoism or Confucianism. But I must offer a critical word here. Even in selecting life's vocation, or a mate, experimentation is not possible. Anyone who aimed at becoming the male lead in a ballet company could not first try being a brain surgeon and then play professional football for two years. Trying some vocations precludes others, but that does not mean that we cannot make an intelligent informed choice for ourselves. Accordingly, to insist on mastery of the major doctrines and Scriptures of religions and to experiment with some before any one can be truly justified is an artificial, abstract, and false position. The options are not so complicated in large outline. We may acquire, in a brief time, enough basic knowledge and comprehension about the general thrust of similar religions to be able to make an intelligent choice of the direction in which we might like to move—if we want to move at all. Direct experiment is unnecessary. We regularly enter into the experience of other people through art, music, and literature. Through imagination we can come to some fair-minded realization of what another's religion must be like. To say, as some do, that they will never be able to understand another's beliefs is logically fallacious and is an appeal to ignorance. Although to enter easily into the mind-set of a so-called "primitive" person whose powers of communication are minimal may be impossible, the great religions of the world, as well as differing philosophies, are accessible to us in a broad outline. Thoughtful decisions can be made without years of disciplined study. The fact is that thinkers of various faiths have discussed the possibility of inter-religion dialogue. Such persons must converse with each other in categories mutually understandable, because each of the eleven religions has articulate spokespersons. We do not accept the often dogmatic assertion: "No simple answers exist." Basic categories of human communication exist, and significant degrees of understanding are possible. 1. Shortcut Efforts to Solve the Problem of Religious Disagreement by Means Other than Reason We see a commonsensical, unthinking attitude about religious diversity, then, which gives no care about the fact of disagreement and rests comfortably in avoidance of discussion, ignoring counterclaims and overlooking the reports of sincere believers of different faiths. This is a complacent attitude, often

16


sentimental, sometimes dogmatic, and usually overconfident if not arrogant. As Harry Costello once put it: "We are most confident that we are thinking aright when we have not been alerted to possible alternatives." But what of those who are aware of alternative claims? Many avoid the discipline of rational investigation and offer in its place other efforts to solve the tensions. (1) Though naive, some have suggested that all religions are really the same, that is, all are equally untrue. The apparent disagreements are only about the use of words or result from cultural variations. While this idea has been voiced even by so prominent a person as Mahatma Gandhi, who did so on several occasions, it hardly merits serious attention. Gandhi himself shunned the practice of goat sacrifices in Calcutta and surely disapproved those strains in Hinduism that make a place for approaching God through sexual experience; yet, he said religions were basically the same. This is a viewpoint that is at best motivated by ideas of toleration and permissiveness, but it is as intolerable intellectually as to say that all political systems or all means of locomotion are really the same. We must distinguish the normal human attitude of respect and tolerance toward persons from the intellectual quest for truth. We must be intolerant of untruth. I may surely "tolerate" a person who does not accept the germ theory, but I cannot indulge the false view. To recognize the fascinating and fruitful differences among religions is far better than to try to catch them up in one big net of vague commonality. No devout believer of any specific religion would ever assert such commonality. Some contend that other faiths are fountains of error or that they are at least misleading and incomplete. To say that all religions are equally untrue betrays even more ignorance than the position that says they are equally true. Instead of noticing distinctions between benighted superstition and enlightened social service or between crudeness and magnificent artistic creations, this view fuses all into one type. We are obliged to confess that this "know nothing" position is found among some intellectuals. One recent thinker, Jiddu Krishnamurti, well-versed in comparative religion, held a more thoughtful variation of this idea. Originally linked with Theosophy, he ultimately took the position that "truth is a pathless land" and calmly preached a doctrine of vacuity, a refusal of any set creed or organization. This is a tantalizing form of agnosticism, understandable as a practical objection to arrogant religious advertising but at base irrational, for it proposes another creed of insistent "creedlessness." To say "I don't know" is the easiest thing in the world, a phrase usually coupled with the corollary "and I won't try to." (2) Quite the opposite is the exclusivistic standpoint, the position of radical displacement. We simply claim that our own religion is the only true one. All the others are false. Such arrogance is regularly found among Western Christians who regard those outside their fold as heathens or pagans. The words attributed to Jesus have apparently fostered this: "I am the way, the truth and the life. No man cometh to,the Father but by me." Exclusivism is found even within segments of historical Christianity. The leaders of the Russian Orthodox


17

Church have openly opposed Ecumenism on the grounds that any effort to unite Christians of different persuasions fails to recognize that theirs is the only true church. Sectarianism, divisiveness, and ill-feeling are the fruits of such exclusiveness. It can lead to fanaticism of the Jonestown variety, which resulted in mass suicide at the command of the leader. In this connection, we instructively read how Joseph Smith, the Mormon prophet, faced the question of disagreement and conflicting views that he encountered as a young truth seeker. He reports that while laboring under the difficulties caused by contests between parties of religionists, he came across a verse in the Book of James (1:5) that suggested to him that he ask God directly for wisdom. Early in the spring of 1820, he began his quest and reported a vision that eventuated in the founding of the Mormon Church, a denomination based on new Scriptures and one which then itself claimed new and exclusive truth! Though a believer likes to think that his or her religion is the only true one, to announce that all the rest are false and only one is absolute seems utterly repugnant. Perhaps such absolutism is purely practical or heuristic, a commitment, like the choice of a mate or a vocation. We select one vocation and reject all the others, but that does not make the rejected vocations wrong or less noble or the other person's spouse of lesser quality. In recent years, some intellectuals have held the putatively more discreet outlook of maintaining that Christianity was a faith while all the others were mere religions. This idea has beguiled some. It promotes confidence and energizes radical missionary movements, which are out to win converts to a particular form of salvation. Muslims run a close second to Christians on this point. But then we confront the problem of which type of Christian to become or which type of Muslim. Shall it be Jehovah's Witnesses, Seventh Day Adventism, Roman Catholicism, or "mainline" Protestantism? Shall it be Shiite or Sunni? If a Shiite, a Sevener or a Twelver? The most exclusivistic form of believer, I suppose, would say that Satan is the cause of competing religious claims and that those who investigate alternatives are satanically motivated. (3) Another position gives the appearance of tolerance, for it recognizes a rightful role for each religion, suggesting that all might be good and that different religious ideas satisfy different people. In effect, it says, I will take my religion and you take yours, and trying to work out differences or disagreements has little point. Discussion and arguments are too taxing and emotionally disturbing. To avoid them is best, for we can learn to live in amity with one another despite contradictions. This is a practical view somewhat like the older henotheism in the days of ancient Israel. Other gods were recognized but each nation had its preference and there was an attitude of relative tolerance. This sort of a view does not inspire much religious confidence because it ignores the question of truth. Soon in the history of Israel the gods of the neighboring peoples and tribes were called upon to contend with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The prophet'

18


Elijah could not agree that Baal was just the same as Yahweh. Nor could the prophet Mohammed agree that the tribal folk religion of his ancestors was just as good as the new revelation he obtained from Allah. Tolerance of the sort represented by this view does not inspire great thinkers and movements. We can cleave to our own religion as true and at the same time respect those who differ from us without admitting the simplistic, even sentimental relativism the view implies. We may respect devotees of a religion without regarding the religion as true. (4) Another means of overcoming religious difference is to claim that value may be found in every religion and pick the best parts of each. In our age of rapid communication and travel, is it not wiser to learn what we can from the differing viewpoints and develop a religion for ourselves that takes the best to be found in each of the great religions? This approach is known as eclecticism. It works quite well when participating in a smorgasbord dinner, but it is meaningless intellectually. First, how do we decide what is best in each religion? What criterion other than personal whim could exist? Second, to say that we can accept the doctrine of forgiveness as found in Judaism and Christianity and at the same time accept karma—which denies divine forgiveness and insists that we must pay for our sins—is monstrous. Suppose someone tried to overcome differences in politics by picking the best in anarchism, communism, democracy, fascism, and monarchism? Or suppose someone thought respect for different views of medicine was wise, taking the best from acupuncture, the gentle healing of the Tibetan Kum Nye, naturopathy, Ayur Vedic medicine, Christian Science, and Western scientific medicine? Eclecticism is an abstract position, an irrelevant mood, the nonsense of which appears the moment we try to frame the idea. (5) A more appealing way to deal with competing religious claims is to select the religion that is the oldest, the most traditional. Surely an ancient religion with an unbroken tradition must be truer and better than more recent ones! The lure and weight of tradition figure in arriving at a faith, but we cannot say that the oldest extant religion is the truest and the best. Of the eleven religions I have been looking at, Sikhism is the most recent, but were we to try to determine objectively which one is the oldest, we would find ourselves in a puzzle that scholars have had difficulty solving. Apparently, either Zoroastrianism or Hinduism would be chief contenders. But the line of tradition is not so sure. Honest investigation shows that some views become heresies because of chance factors alone and that revolts against long-standing traditions have yielded clearly beneficial results for humankind, for example, the doing away with human sacrifice and widow immolation. A corollary to this approach states that some day we will come to see that the oldest tradition is really the best. Someday, all will return to the fold and see that the great tradition is the only true one. This trades on the time factor. On the one hand, it says time and age show superiority, and on the other hand, given a little more time, we will come to realize the truth. Some of the


19

staunchest atheists and opponents of religion have taken the same slant. Not only is atheism old, but vigorous atheists today, such as doctrinaire Marxists and Freudians, confidently affirm that when individuals mature sufficiently, they will come to see the "truth" of atheistic views. Such an appeal overlooks the fact that some former Marxists have come to realize the truth in traditional religion, and some former Freudians have achieved maturity in the Buddhist faith. This sort of discussion makes for unreason and gives us no solution. (6) A more attractive point of view is one that claims to recognize the value and truth in all other religions while claiming to supersede and surpass them. This is not the oldest view but instead the latest one—one that draws upon those older than it. But the view is better because it is the culmination of others. Islam has the advantage of this position. It freely and willingly recognizes the great persons and teachings in the Jewish tradition, granting a common ancestry. It also accepts some of the stories and insights of traditional Christianity, though it claims to be a corrective as well as an additive set of beliefs. Thus, Judaism and Christianity paved the way for the great final truths found in the Koran. Still, few religions are as willing to admit the value and truth in those that preceded it. Islam has a definite appeal. But then the natural question arises of whether any new religion will emerge, which by the same argument will be better because it surpasses even Islam. Surely, devout Sikhs could claim by this argument that their religion is superior. It not only respects Islam but also incorporates aspects of Hinduism. The Bahai religion, which grew out of Islam, now claims to be a truly universal religion incorporating the messages of others. But it is thoroughly sundered from Islamic teaching and has suffered persecution by Iranian Muslims. The story can go on repeatedly. Theosophy incorporates features of Hinduism and Buddhism. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (the Mormons) accepts both the Old and New Testaments, but adds its own revealed Scripture, the Book of Mormon. The active Christian Science church does the same, but instead of the Book of Mormon, it offers Mary Baker Eddy's Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. The Unification Church, founded by Sun Myung Moon, claims likewise to be the latest form and hence the truest version of the Judeo-Christian tradition. Soka Gakkai, now with ten million members, founded in 1937, claims to be the culmination of the teachings of the Buddhist leader Nichiren from the thirteenth century. We can always hold out hope that a new prophet will arise who will supersede and surpass those who claim to have superseded the others. Unfortunately, those views that have been consolidated into fixed patterns will not, under questioning, admit that new truths may supersede theirs. However, one distinguished Christian theologian, A. C. Knudson, has remarked: "there is no way by which it can be demonstrated that Christianity will never be superseded by another and higher religion."1 The vital issues in religious controversy cannot be decided by appealing to a time patch. If we are interested

20


in truth, (and many are not), the issues must be joined on their merit, not decided by recentness. One example of a book that tries to bring together different perspectives is Beatrice Bruteau's Evolution toward Divinity, which compares the pioneering work of the Jesuit Pierre Teilhard de Chardin with views in the Hindu tradition, finding strong correspondence and linking twentieth-century Christianity with ancient Hindu traditions.2 Rumi, a Sufi, saw in the differing sects and religions separate ways to one goal: "The lamps are different, but the Light is the same: I come from beyond. O Thou who are the kernel of existence, Thy disagreement between Muslim, .Zoroastrian, and Jew depends on the standpoint." (7) Yet other ways exist to "solve" the problems of religious diversity outside of the appeal to rational discussion. A more attractive view than the foregoing is what we may call the "incorporative" view. This outlook announces in its most prominent form that while genuine religious disagreement and variation exists, all religions are striving toward one basic outlook. They may employ different terminology, worship in different ways, and have different creeds, but these are only minor variations in the overall unity they seek. On the altar in a Hindu temple in Boston we find these words: "Truth is one, men know it by different names." In a morning worship service in that temple, the priest's prayer will address the deity by the names of the differing theistic religions. The implication is that all religions are questing for and are really in touch with the unified fundamental reality but they have different names and ways of approaching it. For members of the different world religions to be told their faiths are really at one with each other and that all are striving toward the same goal is gratifying. This is a magnanimous view. Disagreements are dissolved by submerging differences and even contradictions. But most serious devotees of any faith do not care to be told that their religion is a form of Hindu Vedantism. They do not wish to have their distinctive claims overlooked or drowned in some all-embracing doctrine that turns out in the end to be a particular religion. This seventh view, gracious as it sounds, becomes in reality a veiled defense of Advaitic Vedantism, a form of Hinduism that other Hindus reject in spite of its philosophical sophistication and prestige. I once heard a Sikh philosopher vigorously oppose a Hindu thinker who tried to assert that Sikhism was nothing more than the Santana Dharma in different verbiage. This outlook has the great merit of offering profound respect for all religions with the exception of rank "primitivism." But it achieves its practical unity at the expense of overlooking distinctions devotees insist on, and more important, by assuming a theory of the Ultimate that can be questioned seriously. To hold to any form of Vedantism without the doctrine of karma, which is simply assumed as the undergirding truth, is impossible. The Vedantic doctrine, which insists that the goal of life is absorption or identity with the Absolute, cannot in any way be squared with the view of the Near Eastern


21

religions, which claim that the destiny of the individual soul is retaining its identity in everlasting fellowship with God. A word must be added about the genuine respect Hindus have for other religions. This is evinced in the Vaishnavite doctrine of the avatars (incarnations). The claim is that Vishnu comes to earth whenever the need arises. The divine enters human existence in times of trouble. Accordingly, Hindus can then treat the great leaders of other religions as avatars of Vishnu. Buddha is one, Mahavira (the founder of Jainism) another, Nanak (the founder of Sikhism) another, and Jesus still another. (Mohammed is not regarded as an incarnation because Muslims would resent that as blasphemous.) (8) A view akin to the incorporative view is one we may call "the hidden unity" view. This position willingly admits that the eleven world religions are not the same, nor does one exist that is better and toward which all the lesser ones are tending. Instead, it claims that if we look deep enough and get below the surface differences, we will find a hidden unity among religions that encompasses all of them and that each is truly seeking to uncover. No less an astute thinker than Huston Smith has offered this view in his book Forgotten Truth. Smith speaks of a "primordial unity" deeper than all specific religions, which committed persons are seeking but which they have not fully grasped, or if once grasped, have forgotten in this complex world. No effort is made to submerge differences in the quest for the underlying unity. But I am led to ask critically whether all religions have in common some metaphysical ultimate without realizing it. Smith finds his clues not in Vedantism but in a form of Tibetan Buddhism. But then larger metaphysical questions emerge about the relation of the finite to the infinite. He holds a mystical view of that underlying, forgotten unity. The finite are swept into the infinite. Now, this view could be true, but it must be argued and defended on theoretical philosophical grounds. It has serious difficulties concerning such problems as human identity, evil, and the integrity of the Ultimate. Moreover, while we can see how philosophical Taoism might lead to this unity, to see that typical Shintoism has any such hidden unity is more difficult. The rigorous realistic pluralism of the Jains would similarly disallow such a unity, as would the Judeo-Christian-Muslim idea of God, which sees God as metaphysically distinct from his creatures. (9) Yet another position has something of an aesthetic appeal. Some literary and anthropological thinkers point out that while striking differences exist among living religions, we must not be concerned with the question of authenticity or truth. Religious beliefs are the emotional expressions of differing stories or myths that develop in one culture and another. We should not think of myths as being true or false but instead as serving some emotional, social, historical, or psychological function or purpose. Just as we regard the stories about the gods in ancient Greece and Rome as myths, so today we should recognize the existence of Hindu myths, Christian myths, and Taoist myths. They grow up in a culture and serve fundamental and needful social

22


purpose in promoting group unity, preserving a nation's past, and perhaps providing a rallying point for social unity. Another aspect of this approach to various religious claims is that religious myths are like stories told to children. They serve useful goals that enable us more readily to cope with daily routines that might in themselves be unbearable if we did not have the myths to help us cope with troubles, perplexities, and even joys. The question of truth is irrelevant here, just as the question of truth does not need to be considered when playing a game. Accordingly, each society or group has its religious myths, which play a vital role in the ongoing progress, identity, and social health of a group. This approach has a certain "wise" ring about it. It is overarching, admits differences, but does not become involved in settling anything. At its worst it is intellectually patronizing. It offers a formula for appreciating the wide-ranging differences among peoples, but like some abstract philosophical arguments, it is out of touch with living human beings and their needs, interests, claims, and ideas. Furthermore, it presupposes a view of the nature of truth and philosophy that is at least questionable if not thoroughly unsound. If the claims of earnest religious thinkers are to be subsumed under the rubric "myth," may we not ask whether the mythic explanation of religion is not itself another kind of myth, in this case, a myth introduced to overcome the anguish of some hard, direct thinking? Except for a handful of Christians and Jews, few philosophers among the world religions would be prepared to say that the beliefs they have chosen and focused on, and perhaps even dedicated their lives to, have the status t>f mere myths, mere devices to bring about comfort and social peace or to assuage normal fears and anxieties—forms of therapy, perhaps. Yet, to-define a myth is difficult. No Buddhist would regard the teachings of their Lord as myths. No Muslim would consider the life and message of Mohammed as myths, nor would Jains regard their ethical commitment to ahimsa as the group expression of a socially useful emotion. Indeed, we find thoughtful spokespersons for the great religions distinguishing within the confines of their own religions, myths and events or beliefs they regard as authentic or true. Whether any contemporary Shinto thinker would argue that the islands of Japan actually came from the drippings of spears as they were lifted out of the ocean's brine by Izanagi and Izanami in prehistory is doubtful. That is a pleasant legend making no claim to literal truth, but it may present an emphasis on the divine origin of things. And while we might say that some myths have grown up about the boyhood of Jesus, to say to a Christian that the Crucifixion and Resurrection are myths, or to a Jew that the Passover experience is nothing more than a myth told to unite people into a nation would be repugnant. I will consider the question of factual claims and authenticity in Chapter Three. But any effort to view the major teachings of the world religions simply as myths seems as wrongheaded and inconsiderate as it is glib and simplistic.


23

(10) One other possible attitude remains. Since to evaluate- or decide religious questions on rational grounds is impossible, the only thing left to do is to gamble that a religion is true in hopes that if it is, we will receive benefits. This idea was suggested by the distinguished mathematician and sometime philosopher Blaise Pascal. Reason, he asserted, cannot provide adequate religious answers. "The heart has its reasons which reason does not know."3 Thus, when choosing a faith, all we can do is wager.4 I have nothing to lose by gambling on Christianity, for if it turns out to be true, I shall reap benefits if I have adopted it. Should it be true and I had not chosen it, I stand to lose everything, perhaps be condemned. Whereas if I have chosen it and it does not turn out to be true, I shall lose nothing. Pascal writes: "I would have far more fear of being mistaken, and finding that the Christian religion was true, than of not being mistaken in believing it true."5 He puts the wager more directly: Let us weigh the gain and the loss in wagering that God is. Let us estimate these two chances. If you gain, you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager then Without hesitation that He is . . . But there is here an infinity of an infinitely happy life to gain, a chance of gain against a finite number of chances of loss, and what you stake is finite . . . And thus, when one is forced to play he must renounce reason to preserve his life, rather than risk it for infinite gain, as likely to happen as the loss of nothingness. . . 6 This alternative to reason has an initially pleasing charm and psychological appeal. But a little reflection indicates serious drawbacks. For one thing, some religions promise more than others. Some involve a long-term punishment to unbelievers, while others guarantee immediate eternal salvation. Some require repeated reincarnations in order to attain the highest bliss. When we wager in a horse race, we pick the horse most likely to win. But Pascal's wager says that we have no way of deciding which faith is more likely. He thinks only of Roman Catholic Christianity. We must make a leap in the dark and hope it is the right choice. This is a frustration of rationality, though it still has an appeal among those inclined toward religious existentialism. And like that view, Pascal's idea of what reason is and what it can do is limited. He views it only as deductive rather than as synoptic. In conclusion, note that we apparently cannot use any shortcut nonrational method to solve the problems of religious diversity. We must wrestle with the competing claims and come to some conclusions about their respective validity on the basis of our best thought, and that means on a rational basis. And in evaluating the variety of religious claims, we need to dig behind to the underlying philosophical principles that are often obscured in ordinary religious talk and experience.

24

RELIGIOUS DIVERSITY, REASON, AND TRUTH 2. What Do We Mean by the Use of Reason in Religious Claims?

In the face of diverse and often competing religious claims, we may now ponder the character of reason and its place in adjudicating those claims. While reason has different emphases and aspects, philosophers will agree that it is not only the primary self-correcting tool of the mind but the very essence of what being fully human means. Reason involves the willingness to listen to alternatives, to weigh their merits, to initiate proposals, to formulate hypotheses, to test them, and to seek truth wherever it leads. Reason may be excluded from no precincts of experience. But logical thinking alone is never a substitute for experience. It cannot deny the differences, yet it must point out that even in the reporting of evidence, interpretive, nonrational factors seep in. This is especially so in evaluating the claims of sincere religious believers. The very data reported are mingled with emotions and ideas that can obscure or prejudice the discussion itself. Thus, if we followed a vagrant impulse to do something naughty, we might say: "The Devil made me do it." Remarkable coincidences may be interpreted as instances of divine Providence. Aberrations of eyesight may be taken as visions or theophanies. I am not saying that such interpretations are necessarily erroneous, but reason requires us to detect the factors at work and judge them. Clearly, in practice reason is akin to the methods of the scientist, but we may not identify rationality with science for reason must stand in judgment over science itself, recognize its frailties, variations, and limitations, as well as applaud its worth. The impressive successes of science in the past century have seduced a number of philosophers into thinking that rationality means science and little more. Accordingly, they maintain that experiences or data that cannot be measured, tested, or experimented with are not worth regarding with serious intent. This remarkably simplistic view rules out any sympathetic consideration of religious phenomena and often results in the blanket identification of religion with superstition. We need to be aware that some philosophic pronouncements about religion are merely results of this recent circumscribed view of reason. It often shields the questionable metaphysics of scientific realism. At its worst, full-blooded allegiance to the methods of science becomes itself a creed.7 Note that the value of science cannot be established scientifically. But reason can elucidate its value for humanity and judge the truth claims of the scientist. Reason alone can tell us when the methods of the scientist apply and when they do not. Philosophers of religion have no quarrel with those who study religion scientifically—the historian, the psychologist, or the sociologist. Moreover, we cannot study religion philosophically without giving attention to the findings of skilled scientists. But when scientists make value judgments about the larger questions of reality and truth—about soul, freedom, and God— we must ask what philosophical grounds they have and we must inquire whether or not some uncriticized or hidden world-view is being taken for

What Do We Mean by the Use of Reason in Religious Claims?

25

granted. We may not, for example, be attracted personally to the religious belief in miracles, but should a scientist tell us that no miracles ever happened or could happen, we must pause to examine the metaphysical assumptions behind these assertions. Science alone cannot decide such issues in advance of examination by critical reason. (1) When people think of reason, they often first associate it with deduction—with drawing necessary logical conclusions from premises or assumptions. This sort of reason is like mathematics, especially geometry. The seventeenth-century philosopher Benedict Spinoza thought a whole philosophical system could develop if the geometrical method was used. In his Ethics., we see a brilliant system of philosophy worked out based on selfevident axioms, clear definitions, postulates, theorems, and the propositions that follow from them with apparent logical necessity. He and others thought that if philosophy was to be worth the trouble it ought to result in the kind of certainty achievable in mathematics. From simple deductive principles we might learn a few things about religious assertions-. For example, we cannot logically switch around statements and claim automatic validity. If I say that all rabbits have long ears, I am not entitled to conclude that all long-eared creatures are rabbits. If I claim that all sin will result in suffering, I cannot conclude that any form ofsuffering I see must necessarily be a result of sin. That is illogical conversion. Nor may I assert only two sides to a question when I am sure that those two sides are exact logical contradictions, not mere contraries. For most questions yield far more than two sides. Now, if I say, as some religious leaders have, that you are either for me or against me, have I not overlooked the possibility that a person may not even know what he or she is supposed to be for or against? Is someone against the religion of Emmanuel Swedenborg if not for it? Most people have not even heard of that brilliant eighteenth-century innovator. But we cannot force the richness and complexities of human experience into a strictly deductive system. We can deduce that an ultimate substance, which by definition cannot be understood by anything less than itself, must of necessity be its own cause. But what about human goodwill overcoming sullenness? Where in a deductive scheme may we find a logical place for tears, pygmies, earthquakes, a beautiful lake, or multiple sclerosis? Reason seen exclusively as deductive is removed from human life and its exigencies just as pure mathematics is. Deductivism can help us avoid contradictions, sloppy thinking, and inconsistencies, but it cannot deal with the full sweep of human experience. (2) Others see reason as a type of analysis that aims at understanding something by examining the parts or elements constituting it. When we have isolated the factors that compose some apparent unity, we may then claim to have provided a rational grasp of it. This emphasis of reason has some firm historical support, as does the stress on deduction. And rational analysis is self-evidently useful in examining religious claims. David Hume, the great-

26


grandfather of a bevy of contemporary analytical thinkers, challenged the traditional notions of cause, substance, and the self, showing that none of these terms refer to anything factual or real. "Cause" may be a useful word in discourse, but we cannot detect causes in sense-experience. Nor do any generalized substances exist as such, neither as material nor as spiritual. The so-called "soul" is thus a fixation. And an analysis of what we call the self indicates that selves are nothing more than collections or "bundles" of perception. More recent analysts, building on Hume, have viewed reason as the analysis of language, maintaining that many traditional philosophical problems and especially religious issues are dissolved if we clarify linguistic usage and show the structure of concepts analytically. More will be said on this in Chapter Eleven. Some have gone so far as to say that language analysis is a type of therapy whose only task is to clarify ordinary language. This is a formidable view and is usually pervasive in contemporary Anglo-American thought, though not elsewhere. Analysts do not usually offer reasons for defending the value of their approach, suggesting that it is intuitively the only sound type of reasoning. (3) A broader view of reason leads us to inquire further into the meaning of analysis, to evaluate critically its subtleties, and to ask not only whether real understanding of human problems comes from this approach, but also how that approach may be justified. Immanuel Kant offered a reply to the Humean method of asking for its presuppositions—what factors were logically required to make analysis successful and meaningful? If we say the human self is nothing more than a series of sensations associated in several ways, how can that conclusion be reached without first being a unified self who then does the analyzing? In order to present an argument showing that no self exists, the one so arguing must first be such a self. Reason thus points us away from mere analysis. Furthermore, reason suggests that we do not adequately understand a work of art, social justice, an act of human kindness, or a saint's prayer merely by picking out the elements constituting them or by analyzing the language used in discussing them. If it is to provide adequacy of understanding and approach large truth, reason must make use of analysis but never be limited to it exclusively. Socrates was a brilliant analyst, but he also used deduction and he held a view of reason that enabled it to operate productively in the thick of human life. The task of a philosopher is to see life steadily and holistically, to see not just the parts but also how the parts are interrelated and connected. Socrates' famous pupil Plato remarked that the philosopher is a synoptic person, someone who pulls things together in order to understand them. Thereby do we achieve wisdom. Philosophy involves systematic thinking and careful structuring; yet, it also requires an openness to new ideas and discoveries. We guard against contradiction and inconsistency and strive for coherence, which is more than consistency.

More on Reason and Religion

27

Accordingly, with this broader view of reason in mind, we may ask ourselves such questions as the following: Have I paid attention to all the relevant facts? Can I propose a reasonable hypothesis to account for them? Have I been logically consistent? Have I considered the negative evidence? What other reasonable possibilities exist? Is one of them more probable than another? Can it be justified by both evidence and argument? What are the logical implications of this view? Do any practical considerations render it doubtful? Can I know that alternative views are less able to cope with the difficulties than the view I tentatively favor? Have I relied unduly on tradition or authority? Have I overlooked any hidden assumptions? Does my hypothesis or belief allow room for alterations should new evidence be put forward? Is my hypothesis in harmony with relevant scientific findings? Have I missed any presuppositions? Is my belief falsifiable? Is my "verdict" or conclusion beyond any reasonable doubt? Can I actually accept it myself, in spite of weaknesses that I readily acknowledge? Does my hypothesis or conclusion justify me in making an actual decision or even a life commitment? The richer view of reason implied by these questions is not so unfamiliar as it might seem. Many practical decisions by thoughtful people on matters of ethics, politics, medicine, justice, education, and culture are reached not by insisting on deductive certainty or analytic clarity but by seeking reasonableness. Jury decisions in courtrooms are made on the basis of inherent reasonableness. Judgments about medical ethics are not deductively certain but they must be made and they can be justified rationally. We cannot prove with absolute certainty that the sandwich we choose in a fast-food restaurant will not contain poison. But to worry over such matters is as unreasonable as to wonder whether the sun will rise tomorrow. We are content in most matters to trust our best rational thought, though we know we do not have absolute logical certitude. Strictly speaking, we may help our understanding of the use of reason if we think of it as trying to solve a problem as best we can instead of as establishing a final solution. Those who seek and demand full certainty on religion or other matters will probably not be willing to adopt the broad view of reason I am advocating here. Reasonable adequacy, not fixed finality, may be another way of indicating this approach. 3. More on Reason and Religion I have suggested a broader view of reason offered by some thinkers as a proper way of approaching religious problems and diversity philosophically. I need next to summarize other developed views of the relation of reason to religion. (1) We are already aware that sincere believers prefer not to use reason because they feel it has no place and would be destructive of faith. Some Christians, for example, take to heart the verse from Paul's letter to the Colossians: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of me, after the rudiments of the world and not after

28


Christ" (Col. 2:8). Both theologians and philosophers have defended that stance with varying degrees of sophistication. They claim that religious belief is sacred, exclusive, and above reason. To examine beliefs and commitments by reason destroys those beliefs. A truly religious person cannot also be philosophical. Philosophical reason should be avoided. At worst it is sinful. Anti-rationalism of this sort is most commonly found among Protestant Christians. Luther viewed reason as a whore, but anti-rationalism is present in forms of Judaism and Islam too. It is unheard of in the long Buddhist tradition and equally foreign to Confucianism. It is an outlook associated with what is called Fundamentalism, but not all Fundamentalists are against the use of reason. Unfortunately, opposition to the use of reason in religion also carries over to science. Science is seen as destructive in genuine religion too (although scientific findings in medicine might be acceptable). In the United States, religious groups develop in their own schools, colleges, and graduate schools, which devotees and their children are urged to attend so they may not have the taint of reason or science. In such educational practices, we find strong opposition to Charles Darwin's evolutionary theory as well as the branding of opposing philosophical views as corrupt and of other religions as heathen. If philosophy is studied at all in such situations, it is seen either as a weak apologetic tool or as a collection of errors that should be vigorously shunned lest the faith be lost. This attitude is unheard of in the Buddhist tradition and is equally foreign to Confucianism and much of Hinduism. Note that those who ridicule the use of reason and urge some pure faith in its stead are a primary source of the divisiveness and even nastiness that goes on among believers of different branches. A history of religions without the use of reason is really a history of a shambles, of fights, heresy trials, wars, and hatreds. Often more kindness and human sympathy is to be found in the irreligious who may trust reason than in those who oppose it. That the degree of fanaticism found in religious believers is increased the more that reason is ridiculed is almost an axiom. No historical basis exists for this fact. It is an excrescence. But another striking iheptness is found in this anti-rational approach. Those who oppose reason as a criterion or measuring stick to evaluate a belief often reintroduce reason by asking us to believe one of their views on the basis of evidence or reported experiences. To base the truth of Christianity, for instance, on some report of a miracle or on fulfilled prophecy is rationalistic. To offer any basis for a belief is to offer an argument, and when this is done the anti-rational attitude has defeated itself. Except for political fascism or mere superstitious primitivism, religious anti-rationalism has been nothing more than a blight if not a disease in some human beings. (2) A second view of the relation of reason to religion suggests that reason is a useful and necessary tool in the exposition and clarification of a


29

faith once the faith has been adopted. Accordingly, reason and thought function after a commitment has been made. In more figurative language, we make a leap of faith and then find reason of great use in clarifying what the leap means. Reason can never on its own evaluate the truth of religious hypotheses; it can be used only to justify the faith after it has been accepted. We can, then, be religious and philosophical, but we must be religious first. Commitment must occur before thought because human reason alone is tainted. This approach has its historical roots in Saint Augustine and Saint Anselm and is characteristic of the view known today as Neo-Protestantism or Neo-Orthodoxy. It is a view of reason out of harmony with that of Saint Thomas Aquinas. The most dramatic and literary statement of the view is found in the thought of Paul Tillich, who went so far as to suggest that before reason is enlightened by faith it is blind and corrupt. Once a faith is adopted, the eyes of reason are opened and reason can then be a worthwhile tool. Tillich writes: Reason stands, like everything in man, under the bondage of estrangement. There is no part of man that is excepted from the universal destiny of sin. For the cognitive function of man's spiritual life this means that reason is blinded and has become unable to recognize God. The eyes of reason must be opened by the revelatory presence of the Divine Spirit in the human spirit. Only when this happens can truth be received by human reason.8 Detached observation and analysis of hypotheses are impossible. A more subdued and recent formulation of this view has been voiced by Nicholas Wolterstorff: "The Christian scholar ought to allow the belief-content of his authentic Christian commitment to function as control within his devising and weighing of theories."9 To illustrate, Wolterstorff notes that we ought to reject Freudian and behaviorist theories and develop theories "that are consistent with the belief content of our authentic commitment."10 This view that reason is useful only after we have made a faith commitment has its basis in a questionable theological assertion about the nature of humanity. How do we arrive at the conclusion that human beings are in bondage until enlightened by faith? Were Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle unable to arrive at important truths by reason because they were estranged from God? This view has had some marked appeal, especially since the end of World War I, which was seen as a breakdown of human rationality, when it was really a clash between powers wanting to control markets and colonies. The view had a resurgence after World War II and reflects a mood of despair. By insisting that commitment must come before rational thought, it opens itself to all sorts of logical befuddlement. To which set of beliefs should I commit myself? Do I accept Vedantic Hinduism and then employ reason to clarify it, or do I accept a

30


form of Lutheranism and then apply reason?. This approach is virtually meaningless for a Confucian or Buddhist, though it might find some response in Islam. Its primary difficulty lies in its failure to recognize that we can use reason to find a commitment or change a commitment. Moreover, reason can enhance a commitment. No sharp sundering of the rational from the volitional is needed. As a matter of psychological fact, no such thing exists. We can, however, alternate between periods of commitment and reflectfbn. We need not begin with a faith and only then begin to use rational reflection. The view does not work in other areas of life either. (3) A third view 'admits that religious belief is unique and not fully dependent on philosophy but can be aided by philosophy. Indeed, reason can bring us to the point where we might be led into a religious belief. A person without any religious beliefs, such as belief in God, is sound and is acceptable on general grounds. But the details of doctrines will not be discoverable or deducible by reason. They will come from tradition, revelation, and possibly church authority, perhaps as a result of God's grace. Furthermore, while some of the theological doctrines cannot be reached by rational means, reason is nevertheless useful when considering criticisms of those doctrines. While we cannot prove strictly that particular miraculous claims are authentic or valid, we can evaluate criticisms of those miraculous claims by the use of reason. Reason, in this view, may lead to a faith, but the details or body of religious knowledge has an additional source, which is not anti-rational but perhaps nonrational. This view has a grand history. It is in essence the view of Aquinas and his followers. Reason is never ridiculed or set aside. Its limits are defined and yet even those are discussible. One reason for the persistent strength of Roman Catholicism and its allies is perhaps because it has always respected human reason and trusts it. Some truths may be above reason, but reason and the use of reason are never seen as sinful or presumptuous. Nor must we have faith first, as view two says. In its most extreme form, this view could yield what is known as the double-truth theory. Thinkers such as Francis Bacon and Thomas Hobbes, who both respected and used reason in their philosophical excursuses, tended to hold that in matters of religion w'e are dealing with a different kind of truth. Thus, the double-truth theory emerges! Consequently, what would be theologically true could be philosophically false. Hobbes was able to be a part of the Church of England while at the same time fostering a totally materialistic metaphysics. This schizophrenic view of how the mind finds truth would be repugnant to Aquinas, but we may wonder exactly why reason must be resisted at some points and not be trusted regarding, for example, the validity of the sacraments. (Spinoza, by the way, said that theological truth is useful, since it aids piety and obedience, but is not a source of truth as is philosophy.) (4) A fourth distinguishable view notes that religious belief is a basic and apparently unique trait of nonanimal experience and as such can be examined


31

and interpreted by the use of the instrument of reason. Such examination does not necessarily hurt the purity, uniqueness, or sacredness of that experience. We can be both religious and philosophical. We can be dedicated or we can pause and reflect on the grounds of that dedication. The pause does not hurt the dedication, any more than a conductor's analysis of a musical score hurts the pure devotion to music. Reason, then, is viewed as the arbiter in all of the claims that are offered as candidates for truth. This view is widespread in the history of philosophy, being found in thinkers who represent differing religious traditions. The view respects science but it does not hold that all explanation must be scientific or that the canons of scientific measurement are final. Even contemporary analysts take this view, but they concentrate on epistemology alone and the nature of the arguments philosophers use instead of weighing the meaning and possible truth claims religious believers make. Some would say that the view attempts too much, which is what the previous three views would say. Other critics would claim that religious experience is sui generis, as in the example of the mystic who sees personal experiences as above reason, not as antagonistic to it. The Hindu mystic who would attain samadhi sees philosophy as highly useful, but the level of experience achieved cannot be looked at rationally. (However, the interpretation of samadhi is a rational matter, given differences between advaitic, dvaitic and vishishtadvaitic Vedanta.) The, view treats the subject of philosophy of religion as analogous to research in the sciences. Scientists work at their tasks without significant regard for the practical value of their findings. They are temporarily detached, yet their findings often have profound significance for practical life. Philosophy of religion tries to approximate this, to achieve, for a time, practical detachment and to examine the various claims of religious experience as a whole. If we cannot achieve a measure of rational detachment in matters religious, does continuing the study have any point? Indeed, is truth possible? One of the serious drawbacks of this view is that it willingly admits a risk—the risk that we might find our pet religious views false. Religion does not like theoretical tentativeness. But we can be almost psychologically certain and yet leave open the doors for investigation.

Three FACTUAL CLAIMS The origins of each of the major religions of the world are all but smothered in mystery. Details are difficult to discover. But manifestly none of them began with creeds consisting of sets of philosophical propositions. The past reveals challenging personalities, moving experiences, striking events, and fairly straightforward teachings, followed shortly by some elementary organization. Systems of belief, interpretations, institutional patterns, divisions, and philosophical arguments always came afterward. But in contemporary discussion, the theories, beliefs, and arguments primarily interest philosophers, instead of the authentication of historical events. Nevertheless, some religious people feel that without accepting specific historical claims as authentic, both the dynamic and the validity of their traditions will disintegrate. Some earnest devotees are bothered by such questions, particularly as they concern claims to the abnormal or supernatural or apparently nonscientific. Accordingly, we need to examine the question of how we may test the authenticity of historical claims, noticing along the way that while some religions seem to require acceptance of specific historical events, others clearly do not. We may safely say that the religions of the Near East—Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—have a genuine and strong interest in specific past occurrences while those of the Far East do not. Although. Buddhism, Jainism, and Sikhism have distinct personages as their founders, as does Confucianism (and perhaps Taoism), the strength, validity, and value of those religions do not rest on believing that particular events of crucial importance happened in the lives of their founders. Apart from distinct sects within them, Hinduism and Shintoism have no interest in biographies, simply because no known personalities founded them. While true that Buddhists figure their calendar from the date of Siddhartha Gautama's birth, a person can be a loyal Buddhist without affirming that any striking events in Lord Buddha's life changed history or altered the relations between human beings and the Ultimate.* However, Judaism, Christianity, and. Islam are a different matter. Though Zoroastrianism is a Near Eastern religion and takes history seriously, the faith itself does not rest on any particular deed in the life of its founder. If we suggested that the Passover did not occur in Judaism, that the Resurrection of Jesus Christ did not take place in Christianity, and that the Hegira did not occur in Mohammed's life, many devotees of those religions would feel that their faith was meaningless and no longer viable. In each of those religions, particular historic events assume major importance (and not only those mentioned). In Judaism, the Exodus and the delivery of the Ten Commandments; in Christianity, Pentecost and the Ascension; and in Islam, Mohammed's trip to Mecca are accepted in some sense as authentic

34

FACTUAL CLAIMS

and all are commemorated, some with national holidays. Note too that some sects or divisions in, or religions affiliated with these three make additional claims about sect founders, new Scriptures, innovators, striking events, and so on, the denial of which apparently renders the particular faith impotent and otiose. Also, some sects of Hinduism and Shintoism as well as Buddhism require the acceptance of a striking historical personage's acts in miracles as their base. The Shiite division of Islam, which is further divided into denominations, depends upon the acceptance and belief that one or another of the sons of Hussain (offspring of Mohammed's daughtej Fatima) as well as the manner of that leader's death, has grand historic import. The Bahai faith, now clearly distinct from Islam, takes its rise in the historic work of Bahaullah and his corrective teachings. If these teachings are doubted, the unique values of Bahai insight might not be lost but the traditional religion would probably suffer lack of motivation. Similarly, the founding of the Mormons (Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints) depends wholly upon believing in the discovery of Joseph Smith who, in 1807, unearthed some golden tablets near Palmyra, New York, which contain additional revelations for both the Judaic and Christian traditions. Other examples within the Christian tradition alone include the revelations to Mary Baker Eddy and her Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, and the contemporary assertions of Sun Myung Moon, founder of the Unification Church. A book in the philosophy of religion seems hardly the place to go into the detailed questions involved in the history of religions, but we must face directly the question of historic authenticity because it is a problem for many serious inquirers and thoughtful believers who would like to know whether what they have been taught is true. They are not sophisticated enough to talk about myths or symbols or literary types. They just want to know if what purportedly happened really did take place or not. They are sure that the Battle of Waterloo happened in 1815. Can they be as sure of the Passover in the thirteenth century B.C., or the Resurrection over 1,990 years ago? And some would like to know whether Joseph Smith really found those golden tablets written by the Angel Moroni (and whether such an angel existed). Apparently, in wondering about whether an event as reported by some religion actually occurred, we may make use of the ordinary methods employed by scientific historians. 1. Devices Used by Regular Historians to Check and Discover Facts Historians use several ways to get their information and verify their claims. (1) Eyewitness reports. If the historian is present, he or she simply reports what they see or take as authentic, namely, the direct report of someone else who was on the scene. Except for some contemporary sects of differing religions whose founders lived in the late nineteenth century or the first three quarters of the twentieth century, no reports of people who have actually seen

Devices Used by Regular Historians to Check and Discover Facts

35

events is likely or possible. Some of the miraculous claims of the Indian religious leader Sai Baba have been witnessed by people in the 1970s. Moreover, direct accounts of religious sects such as Mahatma Gandhi's have been known directly. This is not much of a source for the great major religions. (2) But if we do not have direct eyewitness reports any longer, we do have long streams of oral reports and written records and documents for each of the major religions. Oral reports may become modified through the years, so we tend to regard written documents and records more highly. Sometimes written records need not only diligent translation but also decoding and deciphering. This eventuates in comparing texts and manuscripts and can become a scientific activity. We try also to corroborate the oral and the written reports in coming to an assessment of the facts. Each religion has a band of scholars who work over the texts, yielding high excitement when some new texts are discovered, such as the famous Dead Sea Scrolls. (3) In addition to various written records, striking archaeological findings of various sorts exist. And the digging is still going on. Not only do archaeologists find artifacts and remnants of older civilizations, but they sometimes find portions of buildings, and ancient markings, glyphs, and hieroglyphs. Digs in the Near East have supported written records in the Hebrew Scriptures. Remnants of the walls of Jericho have been found, and inscriptions on stone have helped establish the path of the Israelites out of Egypt. The early origins of Hinduism have been unearthed in places such as Mohanjo-Daro or Harappa. One of the major discoveries was the famed Ashokan column verifying the sermon of Buddha at Sarnath (near Varanasi). Note how eagerly believers seek to show actual evidence of founders or events in the present. Thus, the Panja Sahib temple has an impression of Guru Nanak's palm in stone. An alleged tooth of the Buddha is housed in a special casket in Kandy, Sri Lanka, in the Temple of the Tooth. Hairs from Mohammed's beard are in Pakistan at Rawalpindi and in glass holders in the Topkapi museum in Istanbul. A footprint of Jesus is preserved at the small chapel of the Ascension in Jerusalem as well as a footprint in marble of Mohammed in the Delhi mosque, along with a slipper of the prophet. Such items are shown to the faithful from time to time to help make an actual link with a religious personage. The abuse of such "relics" by traveling monks of the church helped to trigger Martin Luther's revolt against Rome. A strong desire exists to show and establish actual physical links. Christians long to go to the Holy Land (as do Jews and Muslims), retrace the journey of Paul, and see the birthplace of Jesus. The time link has more a psychological than any possible authentic support; for example, the shroud of Turin has been independently shown not to have been a sheet covering Jesus' body in the tomb, though it is revered as such. (4) In recent years, sophisticated methods for dating some of the archaeological findings of scientists have been developed. This can be done by

36

FACTUAL CLAIMS

chemical analysis, especially the technique of carbon-14 dating, which helps verify claimed authenticity. (5) In a larger perspective, checking written records by working over the astronomical and geological data is possible. Just as eclipses, for example, can be predicted, so too can their past occurrences be computed: This is useful for the paleontologist who is concerned with the demise of dinosaurs as possibly due to a meteorite shower. It might also be of some use in checking other claims about births. At the Christmas season, for example, planetariums customarily have shows depicting the sky as it was in Israel at the reputed time of Jesus' birth. By the same token, acceptance of the Bethlehem birth narratives produces some problems astronomically, unless we wish to say that at the time a conjunction of planets occurred in the East seen by the Magi. Astronomical data also show clearly that for the sun to stand still during one of the Old Testament battles would have been utterly impossible. (We can wonder whether evidence of the Flood story is universal or whether geological findings regarding volcanoes and floods are equally universal.) (6) We may also draw deductions or at least reasonable inferences from the kind of data that are present. If we know about the town of Nazareth or about natural phenomena, we can see how some recorded events fit in even though we have no direct evidence. This sort of detective work is done by historians all the time, being sometimes useful in verifying the claims of religious people. For example, a cave in the Himalayas has a remarkable flow near the source of the Ganga. Devout Hindus regard it as a manifestation of the Lord Shiva, and today it is a pilgrimage spot. The fact is that such an ice formation exists and it is ages old. Whether it is a theophany or not might be a matter of faith, no less than the one in Lourdes, which is but two hundred years old. If the Shiva manifestation happened, perhaps the Lourdes manifestation did as well. But to accept the tower of Babel and the trip of Joseph, Mary, and Jesus to Egypt is unreasonable, for no corroborating evidence exists to support such a belief. (7) Other means of verifying reputed historical claims are not viable, though some have considered extrasensory methods. So far such claims have not amounted to much, even about the present, let alone efforts to contact deceased historians or those who were present at some scene of religious history. A few claims to theophanies exist in modern times, when a spiritual being became manifest to someone. This is the basis for the shrine at Lourdes, for example. Interestingly, such claimed direct visitations by religious personages are always linked to the culture where they occur. Hindu devotees do not see the Virgin Mary in Mysore, and French Christian children do not find Lakshmi. (8) Sometimes no reasons exist to doubt factual claims because even though we cannot verify them directly, we know that in principle they are verifiable, and indeed, might be verified some day through continued research.


37

This has happened, and we need not doubt reported events that could lend themselves to verification. But must we not doubt those claims that could not be substantiated in principle by ordinary means available to historians? To see an alleged footprint of Jesus in stone at the church at the Mount of Olives, indicating the point of departure for Jesus' Ascension into Heaven, is small comfort. If a religious claim is of such a nature that it has no chance of being tested or verified in any ordinary way, we may reasonably either reject it or regard it as of minimal importance. (9) We may now go a step further and ask whether a reported claim of religious people, though unverifiable as such, is reasonably commensurate with all we know, violates no known principles, and does not fly in the face of all known procedures, that is, does not require the suspension of scientific credibility. As for the written records of the major religions, we do accept stories and reports as they come to us, because they fit into a reasonable pattern, even though this or that particular event cannot be verified. The stories about the kings in the Hebrew Scriptures cannot uniformly be validated, but usually no reason exists to disbelieve them. We accept them because they fit in with a whole complex. We might have trouble with the size of Goliath the Philistine as reported in 1 Samuel 17:23-54, but no reason exists to disbelieve the story of the shepherd boy David slaying him with a pebble from his slingshot. The reported age of some of the Hebrew patriarchs such as Methuselah and Enoch is no easier to accept than the alleged ages of some of the twenty-four Jain Tirthankaras, whose life spans lasted millions of years. Rishabha, the first Tirthankara, was 3,000 feet tall, while Mahavira, the apparent historic founder, was virtually of normal height and lived seventy-two years. In such cases, the exaggerations—while not to be taken literally—may suggest a deep-lying idea of religious value or ethnological meaning. Thus, ancient Hebrew names may represent the life span of a tribe rather than of an individual. And the extreme ages of the Jain leaders plus the equally long gaps between them, suggests that this religion, which opposes belief in an eternal God, is itself eternal. The point is that we do accept most ordinary narrative reports in religious histories even if we do not have full evidence. This is what all historians do. There is just no reason to doubt some of the stories. As historian Cecil Cadoux has written, "As to the difficulties and uncertainties of historical evidence, they form no justification for ignoring historical probabilities. . . . Our belief and conduct will both be wrong if we refuse to take into account the probabilities established by historical inquiry."1 Yet we often tend to depart from historical facts in the interests of devotion and edification. Reportedly, Alfred Loisy, for twenty years a Roman Catholic priest and New Testament scholar, admitted late in life that the only thing in the Apostle's Creed he could say with assurance was "suffered under Pontius Pilate." T H. Robinson, in referring to the interwoven narratives of the stories of Joseph as

38

FACTUAL CLAIMS

reported in the Book of Genesis remarks: "Differences in detail only add to the certainty of the main narrative." To mention reports of miracles found in Near Eastern religions may also be instructive. We may have difficulty accepting the so-called nature miracles Jesus reportedly performed, such as turning water into "wine or stopping turbulent winds, but reports about healing persons mentally or physically ill are not so baffling. However, when claims are made even today that a missing thumb was restored through Christian Science, we become understandably skeptical. (10) May we come to rely on extra-scientific (not necessarily antiscientific) modes of verification? C. J. Ducasse, not a theist, does this in Nature, Mind, and Death in discussing evidence for possible survival after death, such as ESP, mental telepathy, or reports from seances. We may even be so "scientific" that real evidence is not admitted. For example, a member of the French academy upon hearing Thomas Edison's recordings said they could not happen and were the "work of a ventriloquist." But most of the eleven major religions, to say nothing of the so-called preliterate religions, make claims about extraordinary things that baffle scientists and philosophers. Some of them are not amenable to checking by the ordinary techniques of the historian or social scientist. Since they are more closely linked to the actual history of peoples, religions of the Near East seem more concerned that the extraordinary claims be accepted, lest the religion lose its uniqueness and dynamic. While Buddhists, Hindus, and to some degree popular Taoists and Confucians have their quota of claims to extravagant occurrences, no one insists that all such claims be accepted as authentic by someone wishing to be an adherent of any of those traditions. But the Jewish, Christian, and Islamic traditions are another matter. While many practicing Christians, Jews, and even Muslims may seriously doubt and even deny that particular miraculous reports are authentic, a high percentage of devotees in each tradition insist that we must accept as true any such event when it is recorded in holy Scriptures or tradition, no matter how minor it seems to be. At work here is the logic of the "all-or-none" principle. We have no right to doubt or challenge those events that are reported in "revealed" Scriptures because to do so is, in effect, to deny that they are revealed. If we accept any of the Koran reports, we must accept all of them. To question a part is to deny the whole. I mention this here because it is a view that has a wide following in North America and it is the basis of much current religious division. On one extreme, we find Christians who insist on an "inerrant Bible" and on the other extreme, we find equally devout Christians who willingly assent to the age-old major doctrines, even creeds of their faiths, but who do not feel that the Bible is a textbook of science or that every event there recorded must be accepted as absolutely accurate. Significant in this connection is the recognition that every religious believer makes distinctions about extraordinary claims simply because he or


39

she decides to accept those in other traditions. Some Christians will accept all the factual claims in the Hebrew Scriptures as authentic, even those that aver that a donkey spoke or an axe swam, to say nothing of the story of Noah's ark. But Jews will not accept the miraculous claims in the New Testament. Muslims willingly accept stories in the Old Testament as authentic and they regard some events in the New Testament as true, but they offer corrected versions of other claims to what seem to be extravagant events. Neither a Jew nor a Christian will accept such claims as valid. Those who insist on the all-or-none principle do admit that a few of the remarkable claims made are not as important as others even if they must be taken as authentic. They will not deny the story that tells us about the burial of Elisha. When Elisha's body was placed in a grave, it came in touch with previously interred bones, which sprang into life again upon said contact. But they will insist that the miracles of Jesus, the raising of Lazarus, and the turning of water into wine, for example, are much more important. And they will accept the preposterous story that Mary and Joseph took their infant son to Egypt to escape the murderous wrath of jealous Herod. Furthermore, those who take the all-or-none principle will reject out of hand stories about their religious heroes that appear in ancient writings that are not part of the canon of holy Scriptures. No Christian will accept the stories told of the child Jesus in writings known as the pseudepigrapha or the spurious gospels of Peter. And they will treat as ordinary history those reports in the Apocrypha, in spite of their long tradition. And they will surely reject as authentic claims to miracles made in other world religions, such as Hinduism. For example, one story reports that once in the carpentry shop in Nazareth, Joseph cut a board too short, whereupon the child Jesus used his powers to lengthen it. Another time the young child waved his hand over some clay pigeons he and his chums had fashioned and they forthwith came to life and flew away. Those insisting on total scriptural authority and accuracy will regularly distinguish those things that are figurative from those that are literal, but here we can find disagreements too. What is passing strange is that some literalists insist that we must accept miracle stories without question, while at the same time holding that particular ethical precepts that are unmistakable in their expression are to be ignored or not heeded. Thus, while insisting that Jesus turned water into wine at the marriage feast at Cana, they will not require that we follow Jesus' explicit injunction not to take oaths. Nor will they insist on foot-washing. On what basis are such decisions reached? Incidentally, those who do persistently refrain from swearing to the truth, following Jesus' teaching, do not make much bother over specific miracles. To try to work out the principles at work when such distinctions are made is instructive. They are more like psychological hang-ups than rationally thought out principles. Furthermore, all major branches and sects in the Christian tradition reject and even denounce assertions made by fairly recent efforts to "improve" their

40

FACTUAL CLAIMS

faith. They do not accept the Mormon view that Jesus traveled to North America, nor the Neo-Shin claim that Jesus did not die on the cross but instead traversed Asia and died in northern Japan. This strange view is voiced by John B. Noss in Man's Religions.3 And they speak with one voice against the novel claims of Sun Myung Moon and his Unification Church. Moon claims to be a new Son of God, a new Messiah, while defending his right to freedom of worship. 2. Extraordinary Factual Claims CruciaLto Faith So far I have been discussing factual claims that may be regarded as minor. We have even seen different attitudes about these among various devotees. Next, I ask about those claims that are at once extraordinary and also deemed crucial to a religion. The Jewish nation and the Jewish religion are based on an historical event celebrated every year in Jewish homes, namely, the Passover. The central claim of Christians is the Resurrection of Jesus from the dead. Both of these claims refer to events outside of the ordinary course of human life and they both apparently entail miracles. A person cannot really be a Jew if he or she rejects the Passover story. We may doubt the age of Methuselah, the Noah's ark story, and even the story of Adam and Eve; but we may not doubt that the Passover occurred and be regarded as a member of the Jewish religion. Yet the Passover entails a host of claims to miracles: the Angel of Death who passed over the homes of the Jews and killed the first-born sons of Egyptians instead, the parting of the Red Sea, the presentation of the Ten Commandments to Moses, and so forth. Clearly, Jesus accepted these events as authentic. On the night before he was crucified, he celebrated the Passover with his disciples. In the case of Christianity, we may doubt the authenticity of Nativity stories, some of the miracles, and even possibly the Virgin Birth, but if we doubt the Resurrection in any sense we are, strictly speaking, not to be classed as a traditional Christian, for this has been the one incontrovertible emphasis through the years. With the exception of Islam, and possibly the most orthodox forms of Shinto, Orthodox Shintoists believe the current emperor is divine, a descendent of the Sun Goddess Amaterasu through the first emperor Jurniso Tenon, or they at least believed this apparently until 1946 when emperor Hirohito resumed his duties. No other world religion insists that we must believe that specific events happened in human history. They have other demands that may be difficult to accept, but no Hindu is required to believe that the Ganga flowed from the head of Lord Shiva, and Buddhists do not have to believe that the funeral pyre of Gautama gave off a jasmine fragrance. Nor must Confucians or Taoists believe special things about their founders as long as they respect their teachings. Zoroastrians and Jains have grand traditions and relate stories about their heroes and saints, but none are crucial to the faith. The Sikh faith requires

Extraordinary Factual Claims Crucial to Faith

41

acceptance of particular precepts based on events in the life of the last human Guru, Teg Bahadur, but these are not extraordinary and a person can be a devout Sikh without accepting some of the miraculous claims attributed to Guru Nanak. Observe that those who insist on holding to the factuality of some fundamental historical claims in their own religion reject the equally extraordinary claims in other religions. While Christians, who insist on the historicity of the Resurrection (in some sense), might also accept the authenticity of the Passover, Jews at once reject out of hand the Resurrection stories. Christians reject the apparent extravagant claims of the Muslim and Shintoist, and they discount and disown the stories about Joseph Smith, whose Book of Mormon was based on the golden tablets he discovered in 1833. But on what basis could we reject the extraordinary claims of other religions while insisting on belief in extraordinary claims in our own religion? We may approach this intriguing question by noticing that extraordinary claims are still being made today in the name of various religions. If we examine what reasons are given for rejecting the claims of current religions that make extravagant claims, we might find a clue as to why devout believers in one religion reject the similar claims of another. I confine the discussion to claims made in connection with the major religions. I cannot cope with the reports issuing from primitive witch-doctors and shamans (see Bhagwan Rajneesh, for example). The kind of claims noticed today often have much to do with physical healing. On television screens across North America, we can watch programs during which people with long-term disease are claimed to be instantaneously and miraculously healed. In India, some of the popular leaders such as Sai Baba not only perform healing miracles before large groups but also seem able at will and as a blessing to the assembled multitude to provide baskets of sweets that are reputedly from Lord Krishna. In France, as many as ten thousand people a day visit the famous shrine at Lourdes, either to benefit from miraculous cures or to observe others so benefiting. Some contemporary minor sects have claimed "soul travel" and "out-of-body" experiences. Others assert they have witnessed intricate surgery performed with fingers alone. A large literature surrounds a remarkable person, Edgar Cayce, who is said to have had, under Christian auspices, remarkable powers of both diagnosis and healing. Some practice modern-day witchcraft or perform apparent "miracles" with physical objects, claiming power from extra-planetary sources. Astrology has a vise-like grip on India, and scarcely a newspaper in North America does not print a daily astrological chart. Palmistry and Numerology are still found in today's world. In addition, both the Anglican Church and the Roman Catholic Church have explicit rituals for exorcising demons. Priests in popular Taoism use firecrackers to chase demons away; Anglican priests use incantation. Here, the more serious question is whether any such demons even exist.

42

FACTUAL CLAIMS

Such reports and events—and their number is not decreasing—are readily cast aside by scientists and other intellectuals and perhaps by commonsense smiles. Note that persons who regard themselves as practicing Hindus or Christians will reject as both outlandish and spurious some of the claims offered under the aegis of their own religious tradition. What is the implicit reasoning involved in such rejection? If we can show the grounds why some loyal contemporary believers reject current extravagant claims, will we acquire insights as to how we might judge rightly the crucial and extravagant claims of the past on which some major faiths rest their cases? Notice that historically both Judaism and Christianity have opposed occultism. Though he wavered, King Solomon wanted the witches chased out of his land. Saint Paul railed against sorcerers, magicians, and soothsayers and was outspoken in his opposition to astrologers, but the New Testament contains reports of odd miracles nevertheless. Hindus accept astrology despite the work of brilliant Indian astrophysicists. Note, however, that the claims of nationalistic patriotism are accepted as quickly as religious claims, even though the evidence goes against the claims. Claims about the justice of our own nation and an unwillingness to recognize outright lies on the part of government leaders is widespread. Think of the lies regarding the Lusitania not carrying arms and the lies surrounding the Tonkin Gulf affair that led to the despicable Vietnam War. 3. Levels of Criticism of Current Extravagant Claims A number of observations may be made on how and why thoughtful persons today can and do reject extravagant claims. (1) The data are often hard to obtain. Careful and thorough reporting of what is seen and heard is uncommon. Thus, we reject some reports as mere hearsay; furthermore, we must carefully separate factual data from "constructions" or interpretations involved in the very reporting of the data. Thus, a sincere religious person may regard an impulse as a stimulus from Satan and thus make a corresponding claim. Similarly, some have taken positive intuitions as direct evidence that God has told them to do something. The data, which may be simple, are made into the miraculous by an overreadiness to color by words. Note that the same historic facts about the war between the states are given a differing "coloring," depending on whether the texts are in northern or southern elementary schools, just as in war propaganda on all sides. (2) But if some data are made available, little opportunity exists for double-checking by disinterested observers and scientists. Indeed, those dramatic healing services in tents or on television are not witnessed by practicing physicians. No genuine effort is made before and after observation. And sometimes the medical sciences are ridiculed in the name of some ancient

Levels of Criticism of Current Extravagant Claims

43

practice or "faith" when authentication is virtually made impossible. Can a thoughtful person still accept? (3) Linked to these facts is the unfortunate practice of reporting only selective evidence. Data favorable to the claim are set forth and those that are unfavorable are not. Unwillingness or perhaps inability to consider all the evidence is the basis for most superstitions. When we hear of instantaneous healing miracles, we would also like to know how many efforts at praying and laying on of hands have not yielded the anticipated results. Religious data (as well as some beliefs) are too often not subject to falsifiability. (4) Warrant exists for asserting that in contemporary claims to religious miracles mass hysteria or psychological trickery might be involved. Such a thing as mass hypnosis does exist. William Sargant in his Battle for the Mind points to such occurrences in his study of brain-washing tactics and conversions. Deep unconscious needs, in addition to psychological immaturity, may account for such phenomena. (5) But apart from witnesses and evidence, notice also that alternate explanations of the reported event often exist that clarify what has actually happened. Any professional conjuror can produce candy or money from the air and can cause lighted candlesticks to appear at his or her fingertips. Most socalled contact with spirits and mind-reading feats can be similarly duplicated, often with expensive electronic equipment. Similarly, the most obvious account of "psychic surgery" is that it is a clever display of legerdemain towards people who are gullible and anxious for the favorable result. Persons affiliated with religion who are desirous of personal aggrandizement and fame are not above such trickery. We may easily suppose such cases in the past as well. (6) Some might ask for the duplication of the extraordinary events, if possible under experimental conditions, but this cannot usually be done because no controls exist and no one dares experiment with human beings to see whether they might not have been cured by other means. (7) If an event reported as extraordinary contains facts or sequences out of harmony with all known events of the same type, we are led seriously to question it. We do not want to preclude in advance the sui generis character of specific events and personalities, but we must be hesitant about claims to miracles that are out of line with all known experience and science. When contemporary Hindus claim that persons having a yogi's powers can transport themselves to distant places, pass through closed doors, and the like, Westerners are properly skeptical, because such claims do not harmonize with known laws in the sciences. Similarly, if we were today to assert that parthenogenesis occurred, the medical profession would introduce serious objections. They know about "test tube" babies and in-vitro fertilization, but they know of no ovum becoming a child that was not fertilized in some distinct physiological way. (Incidentally, several virgin births are known.) Also, socalled miracles may illustrate scientific laws that are but dimly understood. But if someone were to insist that this universe is lawless and, hence, that

44

FACTUAL CLAIMS

interruptions of the natural order can and do occur, we must ask him or her what metaphysics permits such an inference. In theistic religions piety generally demands the trustworthiness of God—his faithfulness and reliability. The theological requirements for explaining how a trustworthy God can act against his own nature are overwhelming. If the laws illustrate and evince the trustworthiness of God, then interruptions of those laws indicate an unreliable God or a whimsical one. (This involves the deeper traditional theological question of which is prior in God, his reliable goodness or his power, which would logically enable him to alter the multiplication tables or the speed of light just by fiat.) (8) As reported, some contemporary events are so extreme and so out of harmony with all we know about nature and God that we cannot accept them as literally true. But we might willingly admit that some vivid, moving facts occurred and we might then need to consider them seriously. But we may treat them as having metaphorical or symbolic meaning and give such interpretations. Now, if we admittedly use such counterexplanations or interpretations of some of the extraordinary claims we hear about in our contemporary world, what does this tell us about how we might handle those factual claims of the past (such as the Passover and the Resurrection) that figure so heavily in many religions, especially those of the West? Obviously, some of the possibly minor claims to strange minor events in a religious tradition can be interpreted or explained in the ways mentioned. As a sample, consider the report in Judges of the sun standing still during one of Joshua's battles. Some insist the event is a literal fact, but for the sun to have stood still in the sky would require that the Earth not rotate on its axis, which is impossible astronomically. To demand that it be believed in. spite of known astronomical laws is chauvinistic and absurd, but what else can we do with the biblical record? A reinterpretation is not only possible but warranted. Newer translations of the same passage indicate that it is in poetic meter, that the writer was strongly moved by the event, in effect saying that the occurrence was as //the sun stood still. Even the writer did not mean that the sun ceased moving across the horizon, or that the earth stopped rotating, but that the event was so momentous it felt as though it had. And we have the added support of the text itself, which indicates at that point that it is not a straight narrative. If some intense literalist takes issue with this conclusion, does he or she believe that tongues walked the earth too (Psalms) or is that expression not also a case of literary hyperbole? We may not treat every claim to an extravagant minor or major event in this fashion, but persons of one religion will surely do that with claims from another religion! We cannot be swept up in a sea of mythological interpretation, coming to the glib conclusion that every extravagant event is merely an instance of myth, that none have any factual basis. This is a catch-all literary device that shows no ability to make the necessary distinctions. To use some sweeping simplistic assertions about the events recorded in Scriptures is

Other Observations

45

simply not fair to religious experience, especially since so many of these events are and can be substantiated by external evidence. For example, we easily hold that the vivid subjective experience of Paul in which he made a turnabout from prosecutor to advocate on the road to Damascus was an instance of an epileptic seizure. But we find it harder to think that a mere epileptic fit could have wrought the changes in Western civilization that Paul's commitment after that experience wrought. Nothing in contemporary experience allows us to interpret that experience as merely a physiological malfunction. It might have been that but it was also much more, for it changed Paul's personality and efforts. 4. Other Observations (1) When we wish to handle both minor and major claims (sometimes seemingly preposterous), instead of treating each one as a separate case and thinking each one through, we may appeal to some authoritative interpretation or long tradition of interpretation as having the "answers." In religions with a developed intellectual tradition, some of the earliest leaders came to grips with unusual claims and worked out modes of interpretation that may be accepted today. In the Roman Catholic tradition, we can find a long tradition of interpretation that provides a method for coping with difficult questions (see the Catholic Encyclopedia). Usually not much room is left for an alternate explanation. We are supposed to accept the one the authorities work out. In Judaism, degrees of acceptance are not so demanding. From the earliest days, Jewish thinkers worked out ways of understanding various historical claims in their tradition. When reported that Jacob wrestled with an angel, so ancient a philosopher as Philo Judaeus gave an allegorical meaning to it by saying that the story illustrated the conflict between spirit and flesh. And other examples could be cited, but no one does that with the Passover, do they? A body of rabbinical literature arose that speaks with the authority of tradition and offers ways of understanding factual claims. The Talmud—with its first section, the Mishnah (compiled about 200 A.D.) and the second part, the Gemara—constitutes the basis of religious authority for traditional Judaism. These texts contain alternate explanations. A similar body of corollary literature that serves a similar purpose—the Hadith—exists in Islam. It is perhaps more authoritative but not binding. In the case of Hindu and Buddhist Scriptures, many traditional commentaries account for some of the factual claims (and also provide theological clarifications), but these are not regarded as the authoritative way of explaining things. Nor do the Protestant or non-Roman forms of Christianity provide strict authoritarian interpretations. (They vary with groups and often cause them.) But to accept an authoritative mode of "explaining" extravagant events does not adequately wrestle with the problem, since the individual thinker may still wish to work out a solution. (2) Some Protestant circles give an alternative mode of explanation, unusual on first appearance but not unpopular. Miracles and wondrous stories

46

FACTUAL CLAIMS

do not occur in the recent past or in the people's contemporary period but they were possible in a previous "dispensation." This view asserts a "divine ordering of world affairs" and different dispensations in history. Accordingly, in one period in God's plan of history miracles were to be expected and were necessary and meaningful. But because of folly and persistent unbelief, God has not seen fit to perform or duplicate miracles in this present dispensation, though he could if he wished to. In the coming age of "dispensation," we may expect similar miracles to occur. But all the extravagant and extraordinary events that have occurred may be accepted as properly true within the dispensation of God's activity. This "explanation" of unusual or apparently incredible happenings is irrelevant to the Eastern religions, which do not take such a linear view of history and which do not have the intense concern to insist that incredible events happened as reported. Moreover, this solution hardly does more than restate the problem of dealing with unusual factual claims. To say that the extraordinary claims of religion occurred between the appearance of Adam and the spread of the Christian church interestingly enough sets aside all other claims since then (denying miracles for present healing evangelists and such theophanies as Fatima and Lourdes). The dispensational view has too many hidden assumptions and begs far too many questions. It dismisses all objections and honest inquiries as failures to understand the way God works at different periods, and it certainly begs the question as to what "dispensation" we are in now. It requires a grasp of human history that would have baffled even Saint Augustine. (3) We need to bear in mind that an implicit world-view or a metaphysics is always at work behind the scenes in the mind of any honest inquirer who is baffled by unusual factual claims. The minds that reject all the unusual factual claims of religions usually work within the framework of philosophical naturalism or scientific realism. All too quickly they set aside unusual claims as not fitting scientific requirements, for either accurate measurements are not possible or experiments cannot be performed, nor are the data subject to ordinary means of verification or falsifiability. Thus, we find a wholesale rejection of anything even slightly unusual, with no concomitant awareness that a metaphysics uncritically accepted is at work. Note that while an uncritical scientific realism is at work, even in the thinking of such modern theologians as Paul Tillich, this same mode of dealing with other facets of life is ignored. The unusual claims of the religious person are summarily set aside, but at the same time, those other aspects of human life that are clearly not subject to scientific measurement are accepted on sentimental grounds. Many of the most meaningful things in life—its greatest value experiences—cannot be understood or dealt with by scientific means. Human good will, parental love, and the human commitment to honest inquiry itself cannot be explained in scientific terms. Some scientific realists are more naive on matters of emotional patriotism and politics than committed religious believers, yet they

A Look at Crucial Factual Claims and How These May Be Handled

47

cannot support their patriotism or social and political conclusions by science alone. Western scientific realists, incidentally, reach different social and political conclusions than those from nations in the East such as the former Soviet Union. Some of the hypotheses in both East and West are almost as baffling as the factual religious claims under investigation in this chapter. (We may wonder whether the revolution led by Lenin or Marx could be explained as a sort of epileptic fit, too, and why not? Are only striking religious leaders to be interpreted as doing things because of glandular upsets or deep unconscious problems? This sort of talk gets us nowhere, but note that it cuts both ways.) Other metaphysical positions are at work too in the understanding of unusual religious claims. Accordingly, if someone holds to a sharp dualism between the spiritual and the physical world, he or she is more able to accept belief in miracles, which then may be seen as an intervention into the material order of a supernatural deity who wishes something special to happen. If someone holds to an essentially spiritualistic view of the world, he or she is more likely to say that the Ultimate Spirit is actively involved or immanent in the natural world and that world is not foreign to it, whereas its manifestation or expression to us is foreign. In this case, no supernatural intervention can exist, the world as we know it'manifests the actions of God, and scientific laws are modes of his operation. To perform a striking miracle, especially of the minor sort, would in effect go against God's very nature. This is not the place to dwell on metaphysics or the theory of reality, but we always need to ask what kind of view is at work as we examine factual claims. Interestingly enough, in Indian religion six distinct metaphysical systems of explanations arose to try to give a rational account or interpretation of Hindu religious experience. One or two tend to dominate in the world today, but not one of the six is self-evidently authoritative. An Indian thinker is always made aware of the different permissible modes of interpretation. The most extreme is the Purva Mimamsa, which thinks that religion is primarily a matter of language usage that promotes worthwhile experiences but for which no real objective reference exists. "God" then becomes a word in the dative case, that is, the term "God" is the indirect object in the ritual's sentences. 5. A Look at Crucial Factual Claims and How These May Be Handled If we now take some time to examine two of the most important miraculous historical claims in two major religions, we may gain some light from the analysis thus far. In a sense, these may be treated as paradigms, as samples of what we may do with basic yet extraordinary claims, without which the respective religions would be mere shadows. I have considered some of the problems in connection with evaluating extravagant factual claims made even today. And note that on the basis of such points we fairly easy set aside many of those unusual claims to healing miracles, and the like. When we recognize that data are hard to obtain and to~

48

FACTUAL CLAIMS

separate out from "constructions," they cannot be checked by trained observers. Sometimes only selected data are given to us, and if we recognize too the possible roles of mass hysteria and hypnosis as well as the distinct possibility of alternative explanatory accounts, we may conclude that such fundamental events as the Passover and the Resurrection could not and did not actually take place, especially since they are out of harmony with our experience of natural order. When we add to this the fact that members of one religion that accepts extravagant claims deny the same claims in others, what are we to do? Several solutions suggest themselves. (1) We may assert that the crucial events took place in spite of all demurrers and doubts. The grounds for such uncritical acceptance would simply be Faith. We must believe in some things, so why not believe in a particular great claim that is so central to our faith and without which the faith would lose its uniqueness? This solution is the one that many persons will insist on without giving the previously stated objections any consideration. After all, God gives us this faith, the ability to believe! But this appeal to faith is primarily anti-rational. It elevates an attitude above thought and it ridicules reason. Furthermore, it ignores dogmatically the claims of other sincere believers by dismissing them as erroneous and as unimportant. If we were to accept things on faith alone, we could then accept anything whatsoever, including the most absurd doctrines of astrology, palmistry, and any occultism or superstition. No way exists to separate out the spurious from the true if all we appeal to is faith. The position is unthinking and one we find in all areas of life, especially blind patriotism. We cannot allow it. (2) The other extreme is to reject the claimed event because honesty demands it. This is severe but it may be the only option for the sincere mind that finds far too many problems in believing such things as either the Passover or the Resurrection. If we were to take as an example here the claim of Joseph Smith's discovery of the golden tablets, we can see why so many reject it. No corroboration, outside evidence, or archaeological support exists, and the idea that Jesus came to North America before Columbus and any known history is totally without foundation. That is why many people have rejected Mormonism, in spite of its many worthwhile and humane practices and its apparent ethical fruitfulness. Can we do the same with the two great events of Judaism and Christianity? Millions of Hindus and Buddhists have no trouble setting aside those claims, while making other claims. Some Westerners totally abandon both claims, setting them aside as mere fiction and not even admitting they are useful myths that provide a source of community and cultural or national loyalties. Some treat them in a patronizing way. Consider the philosopher coming from the Jewish cultural tradition who still has his or her sons circumcised by the rabbi, or consider the father of a traditional Christian family who attends mass on Easter because it is a socially acceptable thing to do. Some may be led to this view, but it does overlook


49

the possibility of alternative modes of explanation that may preserve the general theme. (3) In a broad philosophical sense, we may insist on a general religious belief that has some practical value and has broad truth, selecting as our particular religion one that does not require the acceptance of debatable historical claims. We may select a religion that has only practical ethical teachings plus a reverence for the Supreme, and we may worship the Ultimate without accepting a baffling traditional doctrine. A number of practical world religions do not require belief in extraordinary factual claims. A religion such as Confucianism may satisfy emotional needs without apparently demanding supernatural miracles. Taoism in its purest form is similar. If we turned to any of the religions of India, we might find that we would not have to accept as necessary any unusual historic event, but instead we would find in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism in all their forms a required doctrine of karma and reincarnation. Those religions demand such beliefs, and for some to accept karma may be harder than to accept the Resurrection. No chance exists of a "religion in general" that recognizes some fundamental general religious things, for such a religion in general would have no organization, no ongoing tradition to foster it, and no trained clergy or Scripture. If we insist on being religious, we will have to affiliate with some particular religion, even though we may not accept all that it teaches. (Unitarian-Universalists and Quakers are denominations that do not require acceptance of the Resurrection story.) (4) A more prevalent and perhaps better view is the following. We may admit the essentiality of an extraordinary claim but interpret it or reinterpret it as a useful myth or in some other fashion. We may distinguish at least four of these as they relate to the Passover and the Resurrection. The four are not mutually exclusive but involve some overlapping. Both crucial events when recounted in Scripture show the inadequacy of language to report a vital human experience. Although the accounts may be taken as literal truths, we must examine the "grammar" of the stories, perhaps as a language game. Or we can first try to translate the story into scientific language, if possible, instead of denying it outright as impossible. We could try to see how the story fits in as part of the whole language game of Judaism or Christianity. In any event, both the Passover and the Resurrection are pleasant vital stories that are part of the ritual rhythm of life in the Western world. This view, however, raises a host of problems. At the annual Ram Lila festivals in India, few would accept the stories recounted in the public drama as fully accurate, yet the stories do help us enjoy and understand Hinduism better even if they are not to be taken literally. (Even to imagine the monkey god Hanuman picking up a mountain, which he uses as a shelter, is impossible.) But in the case of both Judaism and Christianity, we do not have stories like the Ramayana. Jews and Christians really do think the events, more or less as

50

FACTUAL CLAIMS

described, have some basis in historical fact. To say they are useful stories might work for a few literate people but will not suffice for the millions of believers. A second way is to treat the stories as useful myths. We may see them as neither false nor true but as practically worthwhile. Just as mothers in North America find it useful around the Christmas season to tell stories about Santa Claus selecting good and bad children, so too perpetuating these great Jewish and Christian stories is useful. They have pragmatic value. Spinoza felt that stories such as these helped to motivate people toward piety and obedience but that we could never take them as true events. A more widely held view among thoughtful committed yet critical practicing Jews and Christians is to admit at once that in the case of both the Passover and the Resurrection, definite striking events did in fact occur. Around those events stories and reports grew up with fuzzy and sometimes contradictory details. The point is that something happened, but exactly what literally occurred may be undiscoverable. In each case, however, the event was of such moment that cultures and nations were born, the calendar was altered, and history was viewed from a different perspective. We may not conclude that the Passover as described in Holy Writ happened as such simply because of the tremendous vitality and persistence of Jewish culture and tradition. Nor may we say that the Resurrection must have occurred because of the success of Christianity throughout the world—its institutions, hospitals, art, and other cultural monuments. We may not infer that an historical event has been so prominent. But we can ask what the germ events might have been that prompted such changes in history and so enriched human experience since their occurrence. Obviously, this applies to some degree to all religions. The tremendous sweep of Islamic culture, with its persistence in science and architecture through the Dark Ages, is hard to account for as a manifestation of mere mythical reports. The viability of Buddhism and Hinduism is also traceable to some momentous events or persons, even though not as specific as the Passover and the Resurrection. We need now to separate out the two. In the case of the Passover, we do know that the Jews were in Egypt, that they were slaves, that they were led out by a powerful leader, Moses, and that they wandered for some years before settling in Palestine. But we have practical doubts about the tricks that Moses did or the plague of frogs, as being literal. And we can reasonably doubt the stories about the Angel of Death, especially if we have trouble believing in angels. Furthermore, we can have doubts about the parting of the Red Sea and the consequent drowning of hundreds of pursuing Egyptians. We have reasonable doubt about the manna in the wilderness and the leading cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night as well as the anthropomorphic way the Ten Commandments were transmitted by Jehovah to Moses. But we cannot deny the elemental fact of the exodus itself. And we cannot deny that the children of Israel left in a hurry to the point of needing to eat unleavened bread. The details


51

may be unimportant and may be the expression of writers who tried to impress their readers with the significance of the event, but this event has been commemorated ever since the earliest days. And it was celebrated by Jesus and his followers (disciples) just before his trial and death. When we look at the Resurrection story, we have a somewhat different situation. No single or straightforward account exists in the gospel narratives. We cannot make the tales fit each other. The reports differ. We might try to write down the sequence of reported events upon the discovery of the empty tomb but will find that a consistent account cannot be made. The events leading up to the burial of Jesus present no special problems for the historian, but to claim that Jesus was dead and buried and rose out of his tomb, alive, on the third day and was seen by his closest acquaintances first, then later by a larger group, is a story that baffles. Nor can a consistent account be made of events after the reported resurrection. What then can be said? According to Paul, if we do not accept the resurrection of Jesus from the dead, the Christian faith and all that goes with it is in vain. Interestingly, not even the most literalistic dogmatic believer can possibly tell the story with perfect consistency. What we might be able to say is that the followers of Jesus were so impressed and overcome by his personality that, after some reflection, the firm belief arose in them that such a good person could not really die. If he did die, what he taught loses all of its meaning, for he taught that God loved individuals to the uttermost and would do anything to show that love. Could such a loving God, then, consistently allow so fine and noble a person as Jesus to perish under these dire circumstances and never be thought of again? In the minds of his followers, we can say this belief grew quickly. They then translated it into a story that could be grasped by people who earlier had required parables and similar stories in order to grasp fundamental ethical teachings. Yet many do not accept the Resurrection event in this interpreted sense. The story as it stands is not intrinsically persuasive to those who are not identified with the Judeo-Christian tradition in some sense. But this interpretation also has problems. As Cadoux says, we cannot think of the risen Lord as eating nor can we accept a literal ascension, since it frustrates astronomical views and assumes the earth is not round and Heaven is up. It implies a pre-Copernican flat-earth astronomy and is intolerable. Finally, some suggest that the whole question of historical accuracy and objective validity is not the one to consider here. We need not, says C. C. J. Webb, decide religious questions on the balance of evidence. Religion is communal, and because communal it is traditional, and because traditional it is historical. We can dismiss the idea of history "as an objective record of past events unaffected by any interest." But for some to find a professedly historical narrative baseless must be a real shock. But this should not necessarily undermine the validity of religious truth. Consider, for example, William Tell's story. Tell never existed—a fact hard to take for the Swiss—but they still accept

52

FACTUAL CLAIMS

the general truth that their forefathers won freedom from tyranny by bravery. Tell did not exist but the forefathers were brave and got freedom. As has also been suggested, the poetical merit of Virgil's Aeneid would not change if instead the Aeneid was the product of medieval monks masquerading as ancient pagans. The values are not lost even if the facts of the story are not authentic. What matters is whether those values are valid, whether they are meaningful in the life of a people, and whether they continue to be the basis of genuine religious feeling and piety. The following quotation from Dean Inge sheds some light on this point: "The 'truth' of religion must reside in the dynamic relation to absolute truth. By this I mean that though our beliefs may contain a larger admixture of myth, of illusion, of illogical accommodation, we must be content if they compose the best creed that we can live up to and if they continually point forward and lead us up to something better." We may hold that the traditional or historical framework within which religious truth is connected is a cultural medium in and through which the Divine reveals itself. The historical framework is only a means, a mode of communication that a people can understand and identify with. The validity of this truth can be determined not by the historical method but by the extent to which this truth can ennoble and sustain the spiritual quest of human beings.

Four THE CONCEPT OF GOD During the McCarthy hearings in the United States in the 1950s, the distinguished philosopher Arthur O. Lovejoy was called to testify. The questioner asked: Do you believe in God, Professor Lovejoy? His response: "Mr. Chairman, there are fourteen distinct meanings of the term 'God.' Do you wish me to distinguish them and state my attitude toward each? If so, I shall be glad to do so." Practicing believers in eight of the eleven major religions regularly talk about God and try to develop some relationship with what they regard as the Supreme One or Ultimate. They use different language, have differing ways of expressing their relationship, and often have differing concepts. Any philosophy of religion, before plunging into the arguments about whether God exists should first recognize such differences and find out what the arguments are about and whether they apply. The agnostic or atheistic casts of mind attain notoriety largely because they do not recognize distinct meanings of the term "God" that are actually believed in by hundreds of millions of ordinary people. They often attack views no serious thinker really holds or ever accepted. And critics address their arguments to dominant views of the thirteenth century without any regard to the careful philosophic thought about God since that time. In the eighteenth century, in his Alciphron, George Berkeley was aware of this problem. "The great point is what sense the word God is to be taken in." More than fourteen meanings of the term may exist. Untutored minds who are undiscriminating foes of religion—and many exist among professional philosophers—are not usually aware of the historic fact that one religion is openly atheistic, historically having collected some of the weightiest arguments against the existence of a divine being. I am thinking of the Jains and will consider their criticisms later. In addition, while much variation exists in Buddhist thought, some European Buddhists oppose the idea of God rigorously. Theoretical Confucianism, while not opposing the idea of Heaven or an ultimate ground of the world, makes little of the idea of God, and we are hard pressed to find a Confucian theology. In the Western world of religion, the idea of God looms largest. Zoroastrians, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Sikhs traditionally place God at the center of their faith. But even here the differences are surprising. If we limit ourselves to Christians, we find some who think of God with every typical characteristic. In some theological schools, emphasis is on God as an intelligent, conscious person. In others the idea that God is a person is rejected for the view that God is some sort of unconscious power that sustains values and is creative. In his doctoral dissertation, no less a figure than Martin Luther King, Jr., focused on three of these differing concepts of God within the

54

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

Christian tradition alone. Even within so-called orthodoxy we find different views. The so-called biblical literalists seem to have an idea of God that is in sharp contrast with the concept held by millions of others. Accordingly, if learned philosophers wish to, they can make a shambles of some of the ideas of God held by persons who have given little thought to their concepts and who believe their view is the one the Bible teaches. But that is question-begging, because the idea of God even in the Bible itself varies. That does not mean that God changes or depends on people's interpretation. It simply means that as early believers tried to set down their thoughts, they worked within limits we no longer have today. And we can see developing views of the nature of God throughout the Bible, especially in the Hebrew Scriptures. If that is the case within Christianity, so too regarding Judaism, but less so in Islam. Hinduism reveals almost a menagerie of ideas of God. The distinctions are subtle, the insight occasionally profound, and the differences in practical religion issuing from different emphases on God are striking. The diversity of ideas of God should give the popular atheist more pause than it does; it should make glib professional philosophers more reticent in their blanket judgments. As early as 3500 B.C., people began to think of God. In the sixth century B.C., thought became more serious and searching, with no let-up since. An examination of what religious people today actually claim about the Supreme suggests five different kinds of possible contrasts. Any ensuing arguments or discussions about God simply must show an awareness of such things or they may be regarded as petulant. These contrasts may be put in the form of questions: (1) May God be viewed as One or as Many? (2) Is God conscious or unconscious? (3) What is the relation of the deity to the natural world and to living creatures? (4) How is God related to the Good or the valuable? (5) What is the relation of God to time and to events in history? 1. May God Be Viewed as One or Many—Monotheism or Polytheism? A look at the history of religions as well as at some currently practiced religions suggests that polytheism has always been present. It lasted for 2,500 years in Egypt, and though efforts were made to elevate the Sun God above others, polytheism enjoyed some resurgence in Egypt's later days. The Greeks and later the Romans spoke of many gods, though as time went on they wondered whether one god—either Zeus or Jupiter—was older or the father of the gods. In Roman theology, polytheism was so extensive that it yielded gods not only of the door but of the hinges and the lock. Even in Judaism, which has always been monotheistic, the earliest leaders admitted that other gods might exist for other tribes or nations, but their own god was obviously superior (henofheism). Not until the eighth-century prophets was it common for Jews to regard Yahweh or Jehovah as a universal deity, the Lord of all nations. In

May God Be Viewed as One or Many—Monotheism or Polytheism?

55

preliterate cultures, we may still observe practices that suggest the presence of many gods. In the living religions of Shintoism, Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism, we find semblances of polytheism. Worshipers seem to have their favorite gods, and in India temples to Durga, Hanuman, Minakshi, and others exist. But even in current Shintoism, which has never been strongly monotheistic, Amaterasu is unquestionably the chief goddess, the superior one, and (practically) the only deity. But thoughtful spokespersons in the other faiths just mentioned would not assent to polytheism intellectually, but they would allow that some ordinary worshipers might be led to the one true deity through popular polytheistic practices. A villager who performs pujas at the Durga (or Kali) temple is in his or her limited awareness and understanding really striving after Brahman, the one, unified being. Not all devotees are able to grasp the profound truth that the One deity is unity, but in their devotional acts they are approaching the One. Even decidedly monotheistic religions reveal remnants of polytheism in supposing beings between ordinary mortals and the divine unity that enable some to approach that unity. Islam is uncompromising in its monotheism, but angels or messengers do the bidding of Allah. In Zoroastrianism, with one supreme god, Ahura Mazda, subordinate fravashis may offer believers assistance toward the Supreme. And in popular Roman Catholicism, the saints are honored, adored, and prayed to. They are more "accessible" than the Holy One. Indeed, in popular Roman Catholicism, a person may ask special favors of, or even pray to, Saint Jude or Saint Joseph without being directly cognizant of the one true God. But none of these practices on the popular level as found in millions of worshipers are ever regarded as polytheistic. The fundamental creed of Judaism is: "Hear, O Israel, the Lord your God is one God." In spite of Trinitarian theology, Christians also emphasize the unity of God, as do Sikhs who call God "Sat Nam" or "the True Name." Taoists affirm but one Tao, in spite of popular polytheistic tendencies. And Confucians affirm only one heavenly being. Hindus avow but one absolute deity, though people may approach it in accord with their understanding and possibly limited insight. Logically, the idea of many gods—perhaps competing with each other for followers—is repugnant and unacceptable simply because of the laws of science and the dependability of nature. Even though polytheism enjoyed some success for many hundreds of years, how the unity of the natural order is better explained by a proliferation of divinities than by one is hard to understand. We do not need to multiply entities beyond necessity when one is sufficient to account for the perceived unity of the natural world. Even the Greeks thought that their many gods were themselves subject to a higher, overarching law of destiny called Moira. The human mind seeks unity of explanation and is puzzled when confronted with inexplicable diversities. Even the Jains, who are anti-theistic, still adhere to the unity of the law of karma, as do all Buddhists

56

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

and Hindus. Indeed, all karmic religions think, that the law of karma is selfoperating and self-sustaining. Conflicting laws of karma could never be. Accordingly, any arguments philosophers set forth today will always assume but one deity on the grounds that polytheism is unintelligible. The question of a countergod or a devil as an "explanation" of evil and suffering will be looked at later. Theological questions such as the Trinity are not within the scope of this study. But I must point out that trinities also exist in Hinduism, Buddhism, and Taoism, according to some believers. And Hinduism avows multiple incarnations, while in one branch of Islam, the Ahmaclayya, we see only one incarnation. 2. Is God Conscious or Unconscious? Religious believers in the major world religions, save Buddhism, regard the Supreme Being as in some sense conscious. This does not make the claim true, but throughout the world daily prayers are offered by countless millions of Parsees, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Sikhs. All of them, rightly or wrongly, believe that someone is listening, that their deity is conscious and in some way aware of their prayers. According to this view, this nonhuman consciousness may or may not do something about those prayers. Millions of ordinary Hindus also offer prayers, and others seek to find unity with the one supreme Absolute Consciousness. Similarly, in some forms of Mahayana Buddhism, devotees offer regular prayers to conscious lords such as Amida. To a lesser degree, this is also true of Taoists, Confucians, and Shintoists. In the preliterate, so-called "primitive" religions, we find a vague belief in a world of spirits who are consciously aware of what is going on. In short, for five thousand years, human beings have piously offered prayers to some conscious being whom they have regarded as supreme. Now, when religious believers claim that the object of their attention is conscious, what can they mean? They will sometimes also speak of God as a conscious person, an intelligent mind who remembers the past, plans for the future, knows all that is knowable, is creative and purposive in some sense, and both creates and sustains the good while apparently opposing evil, though possibly tolerating it. More will be said later about the character and attributes of God as they are affirmed by sundry religions. But when someone believes that God is a conscious person, some today immediately charge such a belief with the devastating name of anthropomorphism, the idea that God is imagined to be merely an enlarged human being, an omnipotent, benevolent, bearded grandfather or greatgrandfather. Religious paintings during the Renaissance in the West even depicted God as an aged figure. Thus, for the modern sophisticate to ridicule anthropomorphic depictions of God is a simple matter, possibly asking where he lives, how old he is, how he cuts his fingernails, and so on. We recall how the prophet Elijah ridiculed the priests of Baal who could not get their deity to

Is God Conscious or Unconscious?

57

respond, by wondering whether perhaps he was sleeping or away in some distant room. A few contemporary theologians, upset by such vain imaginative representations of the deity, have totally rejected the idea of God as conscious or as a person, falsely assuming that if we thought of God as conscious, such a being would have to have a nervous system or a body of some sort. They say this because they have known of no instance where consciousness exists without such physicalistic support. Indeed, some have capitalized on this criticism and almost made a sport of criticizing the idea of God as conscious because of what they saw as a necessarily entailed anthropomorphism. To attack views no serious thinker ever defended is easy, and that is what these modern theologians have done. Charles Hartshorne has acutely observed regarding-Jean-Paul Sartre's criticisms of religion: "What we are given by Sartre is a twentieth-century criticism of eighteenth- or thirteenth-century religious ideas. By this procedure the essential issues will always be missed."' To think of God as physical goes against the experience and teaching of most theistic religions, even since the time of the ancient Greek philosopher Xenophanes in the sixth century B.C. He allowed that if the Ethiopians had gods they would make them black and snub-nosed and if horses had gods they would make them horselike. But Xenophanes went on to say that God is one and that he is intelligent: "God is one, supreme among gods and men and not like mortals in body or in mind. The whole of god sees, the whole perceives, the whole hears. But without effort he sets in motion all things by mind and thought."2 This is an early thinker's recognition that the functions of consciousness in God cannot depend on spatial characteristics. We would think that this ancient distinction could have been recognized by modern critics, but their interests have unfortunately been journalistic and popular. Thus, we may still expect patronizing diatribes against a pictorial grandfather-like God that no serious religious thinker or philosopher in the faiths mentioned has ever held and would not hold. Indeed, attacks on anthropomorphism by sages, prophets, and philosophers within the framework of religions can be traced to the earliest times, in addition to Xenophanes. We find such attacks in Isaiah, Ezekiel, and even in the second commandment of the Mosaic Decalogue, which forbids "graven images," implying that God may not be likened to any human form. While Jesus spoke of God as a loving Father, he insisted that God is a Spirit. In Book Six of The Confessions, Saint Augustine wrote: "It was profane to believe God to be bounded by the figure of a human body." The prophet Mohammed rejected the idea of God as a father because even that connoted for him a biological connection. Nothing physical even by metaphor could be accepted. Mormons are the only group of believers who claim that "God is in form like man," but this is an exception. In addition, while Hindus and Buddhists do allow graven images in the form of sculptured or pictorial images of lesser deities, even those popular representations are given physical traits that set them off from ordinary mortals. If they are not gold or blue in color, we need only count the arms of Siva to

58

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

realize that when spatial representations are made, they are marked off from the human form in unmistakable ways. More intellectual Hindus may have a shrine to the supreme Lord, though at its center is not physical representation but merely the symbol for the word "God." Ancient Jews regarded God as so utterly different from human beings that they did not even write out the name of God fully or mention it orally. Thoughtful Jewish students in philosophy classes today will writ G-d instead of G-o-d to keep a remnant of that tradition alive. Sikhs speak of God as Sat Nam—the True Name—and shun all representative forms as energetically as do Muslims.- Accordingly, we may conclude that those faiths that think of God as conscious do not maintain that God can be imagined. That is the crucial point. We cannot picture consciousness but we know what it means to be conscious, and those popular efforts in their visible depictions still indicate that the divine, whatever it is, cannot be understood as merely anthropomorphic. But if we were to say that God is conscious, what else can that mean? No thinker would say that to think of God as conscious is the same as to picture God as some sort of human being. They would say, instead, that God is at least conscious, and probably more. We are unable to know what words such as "intelligent," "creative," or "purposive" mean without thinking of consciousness. Nor is the idea of memory or self-knowledge possible apart from consciousness. These are terms human beings understand from their own experience. All believers would say that if those words are applicable to God, God excels in those traits beyond our capacity to think, let alone imagine. Is God then to be conceived of as a superperson, a superconscious being beyond our thought of personality yet including consciousness? Religious thinkers of several faiths argue that God is indeed beyond finite understanding but that we may have some minimal comprehension of him by using such terms as those cited above. Benedict Spinoza, an enemy of anthropomorphism, held that God had an infinite number of attributes, of which two could be known by us. We can know and believe some things about God, but we cannot comprehend God's nature in a complete sense or define him exclusively in human categories. But some human categories, such as consciousness, must be used or we have no God at all but merely an indefinite blur. H. P. Owen says: "We know that God is personal; but how he is personal we do not know."3 The historic fact is that for at least five thousand years believers have said that God is a conscious being. This is not mere frailty groping for the indescribable. It is an affirmation, a claim, that any God worthy of worship has traits that we can assert, and that affirming those traits does not in any sense limit the deity or magnify the creature who is trying to understand. A few theologians still ridicule honest human efforts by suggesting that our best thought still has no referent or relevance when it comes to the Ultimate. Frankly, that is misplaced intellectual humility. It offers no more than mystery. Religious experience through the ages admits plenty of mystery, but God is not a total mystery. If so, neither God nor religion would exist for us. We need no


59

pejorative views about human inabilities when we are honestly striving after truth. Or, to say it differently, we find it hard to say that Moses' and the eighthcentury prophets' views are muddleheaded, that Jesus and Mohammed knew nothing whatever of the Supreme, that Nanak and Zoroaster were as misguided as any ordinary layperson, that Ramakrishna had no insight at all, and that Plato, Aristotle, Berkeley, Kant, Leibniz, and Hegel were likewise fundamentally in error, speaking about a being of which no one can know anything. Modern faddists of skepticism and agnosticism might take a few moments to dwell seriously on the amount of hard thought that has gone into the idea of God as conscious instead of announcing in a perfunctory way a skeptical epistemology that may be baseless. Suppose that we were to say that the Ultimate or the Supreme Being cannot be regarded as conscious. It is neither superconscious nor a superperson nor even an all-encompassing Absolute who incorporates consciousness. If we take this approach, two major alternatives are possible: (1) The term "God," though not referring to a conscious being, does have a referent of some sort. The being is outside of mere subjective wishing. (2) The term "God" as used by religious people for thirty or more centuries has no referent at all; it is some kind of a projection from within—social or psychological. We need to examine these two standpoints. (1) The first view says that the term "God" refers to something other than human beings. Henry N. Wieman, a philosophical theologian, thinks of God as creativity, as the unconscious source of human values and goodness. He strongly opposes the view that God is conscious: "A being capable of doing what God is said to do cannot be a person."4 All arguments against God as a conscious person, says Wieman, can be put into one statement: "God exercises a power different in kind from what any person could ever have."5 Another group of thinkers, led by Paul Tillich, have held that God is an indefinable ground of all being, a being beyond ordinary being yet somehow its source. When we speak of God, we mean that we experience something that is an object of our ultimate concern and that underlies everything that is. It is the creative ground or formative unity and cannot be defined. Our language cannot, by its very nature, adequately characterize the ground of being, though it has practical and emotional value; while on a popular level to think of God as conscious may be useful, that must never be taken as literally true but merely as symbolic. In recent years, some have seen this approach as a profoundly religious one. Others view it as a disguised form of naturalistic metaphysics, presupposing that in such areas only science may give us rational truth. With such a conception of God, we can see why a man such as Tillich is not interested in arguments or proofs of God's existence. Still others—less developed but of interest—hold that God is an unconscious power making for righteousness. Samuel Alexander held the usual view that the term "God" referred to a thrust or direction in the evolutionary

60

THE CONCERT OF GOD

process of nature, a nisus. A. N. Whitehead's "Process Theology" resembles this view, for it speaks of creative process "with a tender care that nothing be lost," but Whitehead does not clearly deny that God is conscious. Some critical remarks are in order here. When we think of God as an impersonal, nonconscious power—a being or a creative thrust—problems arise. The first is how we may possibly conceive creativity and value production as intelligible without the factor of conscious intelligence. Maintaining that creative purpose and the presence of intelligible law as well as the bounty of values is the product of an unconscious, general being is more mysterious than saying that they are better explained as consequences of conscious intelligent ordering, even if we do not grasp the extent of God's consciousness or comprehend the scope of what it means for God to be a person. The eminent divine of a century ago, Phillips Brooks, put it this way: "You must see how at the very bottom of His existence, as you conceive it, lie these two thoughts— purpose and righteousness; how absolutely impossible it is to give God any personality except as the fulfillment of these two qualities—the intelligence that plans in love and the righteousness that lives in duty."6 If good purposes result from an unconscious source of value, are we not left with a greater mystery? If a "power making for righteousness" exists, as Matthew Arnold said, which may not be defined as other than "force," does not also considerable evidence exist for a power making for pain, suffering, and injustice, as well as ugliness? And just what is this generalized power's relation to the world? To say that God is the "being beyond being" or the ground of being, or that some being beyond God exists is to produce even further mysteries, for we might then be led to ask whether a ground beyond that exists, though to be sure no causal sequence is intended. But how, then, does this view differ from the straightforward metaphysics of scientific realism or naturalism? Such a difference is especially likely because the idea that an ultimately real Spirit exists is unequivocally denied. G. W. F. Hegel held to an Absolute Spirit as the fundamental reality, and while it does not resemble any traditional religious idea, Spirit is nevertheless conscious. One of his friends, Friedrich Schelling, vacillated and took the position we now think of as romantic impersonal absolutism. Religious believers throughout the world cannot rest in such vagueness. Is anything about the "ground of being" available for worship, prayer, and fellowship? Religion would soon die off if ordinary people concluded that the highest being they know is a vague something, unconscious of individuals, nature, and the good. Such an argument is not logical, but when we reinterpret the idea of God so fully, we are not addressing the claims and feelings of thousands of sincere people for the last five thousand years. Even Sigmund Freud, who was no friend of religion, was upset by the modern effort to squeeze all traditional meaning out of the word "God." He remarks:


61

One would like to mix among the ranks of the believers in order to meet these philosophers, who think they can rescue the God of religion by replacing him by an impersonal, shadowy and abstract principle, and to address them with the warning words: "Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain!"7 (2) The second view, which denies consciousness to God, maintains that while the term "God" is used widely and by different religions, it must be seen as a symbol. It must not be interpreted as referring to a force t>r agency outside of human persons; it is a term that springs out of human need—human persons, unconscious wish, or perhaps social demand. Thus, Ludwig Feuerbach could propose that God was invented by society's needs. The word "God" has no referent in the objective order. Viktor Frankl, a distinguished psychoanalyst with sympathy for religious experiences, remarks that a religious sense is deeply rooted in every person's unconscious depths. The function of psychotherapy is to enable the patient "to become conscious of the God within." Thereby, we will find the transcendent meaning in life and be able to respond fully to it. Others suggest that the idea of a conscious personal God is a projection of the psychologically immature. It fills an unconscious need to have a kind father-God in a world that is uncomfortable, disorderly, and unkind. And as is well-known, the general Marxist position thinks that the idea of a conscious God is little more than a word invented by special, wealthy, economic power groups to serve the purpose of keeping people with limited intelligence and powers of criticism in a subjugated state. Some think that instead of thinking that the word "God" refers to a conscious deity, it should be understood as "truth." So God equals truth. And we may then regard respect for truth as respect for God. A minor school in Hindu philosophy takes a similar position, holding that the term "God" is a noun in the dative case. The Purva Mimamsa, while respecting the authority of the Vedas, do not say a God exists apart from individuals. Instead, in ritual observances, "God" is an object in ceremonial performances, providing traditional satisfactions. When we think critically of these options, we do notice evidence in the history of religions for such assertions. Much religion seems rooted in psychic or social needs and much seems purely verbal and ritualistic. But (1) if we say that the idea of a conscious God is a tool for the rich to keep the poor in submission, how do we account for the teachings of religious leaders that attack the wealthy in the name of God and preach that God is on the side of the oppressed? Such is the case in both the Hebrew Scriptures and the New Testament, for example. Although we can see evidence of the social control of the masses by ecclesiastical institutions in Russia, Rome, and elsewhere, the most penetrating criticisms and actions against such artificiality come from religious teachings that affirm God's conscious protection of the downcast and

62

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

oppressed. (2) We may regard the teaching of the prophet Hosea, with his idea of forgiving love, or the teaching of Jesus on unconditional goodwill, as psychologically immature. But can anyone who prays to a conscious God to forgive those who do not know what they do be counted among the stunted, dependent personalities of history? The great historic leaders of religions have spent much of their effort promoting humanitarian causes. The institutions that developed may have sided with the wealthy and done bad things, but that cannot be seen as normative when studying the idea of God present in historic religions. In short, theories of this second type, which deny any referential value to the word "God," grossly overlook the actual teachings of religious leaders who have struggled against oppression and against conservative wealthy interests, and who conscientiously seek full human maturity in the name of a God who helps persons grow into such maturity. 3. What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? Here, again, a number of viable conceptions may be found among the religions of the world, even including differences within some religions. While we might say generally that the religions coming from the Near East emphasize the transcendence of God over nature, those with an origin in India stress immanence, God's presence in nature. But no such simplistic division is possible. We need to clarify further by categories and show some distinctions. A. Deism The popular view found in the West—one that is the object of much criticism, perhaps disproportionate to its significance—is the view that thinks of God as distinct and separate from the world of nature and living creatures. This may be called strict superaaturalism and is usually called deism. God is understood as the supreme creator of all that exists. God is totally other. The world depends on God for its very existence. We find this doctrine in Judaism, Christianity, Islam, Zoroastrianism, and to a minor degree in Confucianism. It is not found in Hinduism or Sikhism. Religious supernaturalism of this type must be distinguished from philosophical deism, which developed in the eighteenth century under the leadership of John Locke, John Toland, William Paley and, later, under Thomas Paine, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin. These deists tried to expunge all miraculous elements from Judaism and Christianity, viewing the prophets and Jesus as great teachers without any direct or metaphysical relation to God (that is, the incarnation). God was the great mastermind of the universe and was to be reverenced as such, the creator and source of all. While a person might pray to such a deity in acts of worshipful thanksgiving, or might even petition

What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? 63 him for occasional help, the concept yielded no idea of intimacy, fellowship, or communion with God, and no room for miraculous intervention or selfvalidating revelations. In stressing the supernatural, religious deism to this day maintains that not only is God the distant creator, utterly transcendent, but also that he may and does manifest himself to human beings in breakthroughs in the form of miracles and revelations at specific times in the historic process. Much of traditional, conservative theology, both Fundamentalist and Roman Catholic, works with this idea. And it is found as well in Islam, which emphasizes the vast difference between Allah and his creatures—a distance so great that all that remains for the human being is to submit before God and accept his revealed words in the Koran. Accordingly, supernaturalistic deists have what may be called a dualistic view of God and nature. God is at considerable remove from the world and from his created beings—human beings and animals. Because of this distance from God, the world may be seen as entailing evil. Philo Judaeus thought that the deity was so perfect, pure, and bright and the world so imperfect, sinful, and dark, that the distant deity could not have any close relation to the created world, for such a relation would be contaminating. He proposed that God made the world through an intermediary, a Logos. This preserved the purity of God and at the same time may have given a clue to early Christian thinkers, like the writer of the fourth Gospel, who viewed Jesus as the Word, bridging the gap between God and the world and its creatures. This* view is widespread and runs deep in the religious consciousness of the religions of the Near East. Allied with it is the interesting doctrine of a time limit on when miracles and revelations took place, a "dispensation" in the historic process long since passed. Others think that while no new revelations such as the Holy Scriptures are forthcoming, miracles, instances of divine intervention, can still happen. These are most often found in the claims to healing we find both in conservative Fundamentalist churches in the Roman Catholic tradition and in the Greek Orthodox tradition. These two insist that a miracle takes place at every Mass, or liturgy, where the elements of Eucharist are transformed into the body and blood of Christ. Critically speaking, note that this deistic view, this strict supernaturalism, has a wide appeal in the West. It is probably the strongest popular view of the three religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. And the deistic, supernaturalistic view of God comes under most attacks from external critics. In Protestant thought, it had lost some hold until the period between the two World Wars. Pessimism about human possibilities and discomfort with the idea that God cooperates with human beings led to a resurgence of supernaturalism in the thought of important theologians such as Karl Barth and Emil Brunner. They prompted a rediscovery of the brilliant Danish theologian S0ren Kierkegaard, who in the nineteenth century revolted against the use of reason and opposed the view implied in Hegel's philosophy, namely, that God was

64

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

immanent in the world. The late Reinhold Niebuhr, an American theologian, made much capital of this view, which confined all knowledge and thought about God to the revelation of his Word in the Scriptures and which railed against the trust in human reason. At the same time, these thinkers were seen as unsound by the Fundamentalists for engaging in serious biblical criticism. Although these theological matters are beyond my scope in this treatment, some philosophical assumptions—even a metaphysics and surely an epistemological commitment—need to be challenged. Is the realm of existence clearly divided between spirit and matter? Does such an intense opposition exist between the Creator and his creation? If so, how could God actually work in the physical order, and why does he apparently limit himself to so few instances, and to such a small segment of the world's population? To answer that God can do anything he wants to do is scarcely more than begging the question. Rene Descartes saw the problem in such extreme dualism and tried his best to cope with it. He went so far as to suggest that all organic life, with the exception of human beings, could be understood as mechanically caused. Only God and creative spirits could be purposive. Nature ran on a strict cause-and-effect basis. The supernaturalists cannot grant this claim while adhering to divine intervention in the form of miracles. The metaphysical problems are insurmountable. Furthermore, if we stress the distance of God from creation and creatures, we may argue that this is not in accord with religious experience and the testimony of religious people. Muslims view Allah as a literal guide of Mohammed, both present in some sense to Mohammed in his various activities as the prophet of Islam and as concerned with the world and history. The same is true in Judaism and Christianity. Jehovah led the Hebrews out of Egypt, guided them through the wilderness, and led them to the promised land, showing concern and mercy to them in their activities. But how can a strictly supernatural deity be involved in actual, datable, historic events without losing some of the purely supernatural flavor? Those who pray to such a deity earnestly believe that distant deity is somehow individually concerned with their woes and joys and can actually effect changes. But a strict dualistic view seems to preclude such temporal involvement. In the Christian tradition, the dualism is partly annulled by the doctrine of the Comforter or Holy Spirit who is involved in day-to-day affairs of the world. But that, philosophically, does little more than restate the problem. Philosophical deists of the Jeffersonian sort are more consistent. They do not think that the creator of the world has any causal or temporal power, and while they might hold to an overarching Providence, their prayers would be confined to thanksgiving and their religious life limited to morality. Some of the anxiety felt by American Fundamentalists about the questions of evolutionary theory has its roots in their naive, perhaps even crass, supernaturalism. They cannot grasp the alternative view that the Creator may work through the evolutionary process because they argue that Genesis teaches

What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? 65 that God made the world for all, without continual creation. Hence, they see evolution as a contradiction of their view of God and spend much wrath opposing it instead of entertaining the hypothesis that evolution may be a scientific description of the way the Creator has worked and is working. Interestingly, because of the strict supernaturalism of traditional deism, some branches of Christianity may introduce intermediaries in the form of saints to whom prayers may be addressed. The actual claims of religious devotees seem to vacate deism, as well as do the logical demands of an integral metaphysics. B. Pantheism In sharp contrast to traditional deism stands the position of pantheism, which identifies God in various degrees with the natural order and living creatures. It is found both religiously and philosophically. The religious experience of the advaita Vedantists of Hinduism affirms that God is all and in all, that the aim of life is to "become God" or to realize the identity of the individual finite creature with the Ultimate. Generally, owing to karma, that identity is lost sight of. When "realization" occurs, the goal of life has been achieved; bliss has taken place. But philosophers have looked at this religious claim and, in the schools of Indian thought, have tried to clear up its meaning. Several positions have emerged as a result of that effort. The first form of pantheism in Greek thought, which developed long after the Upan'ishadic view in Hinduism, may be found in Ammonius .Saccas, the Neo-Platonic philosopher. He had been a Christian but gave it up. Plotinus, his student, took the view that the world and its creatures were emanations of God. They "flowed" out of him as products but were still linked with the One, though the more distant the flow, the darker and more estranged they became. Accordingly, Plotinus's metaphysics has a built-in doctrine of salvation. A person can return to the One through moral discipline, intellectual awareness, and artistic sensitivity. Beauty is the doorway to holiness and ecstatic union with God. What consequence follows from identifying the world and its creatures as God? Advaitic thought in Hinduism suggests that individuality and the world of nature are unimportant and even false or unreal. If God is all, then finite individuality is of little consequence in itself. Human personality is of little consequence until it comes to the realization that it is divine: "That art Thou." Conjoined with this idea is the doctrine that the world of sense, the natural phenomena of daily life, amount to "cosmic ignorance" or mdyd. That is not illusion, but a "show" produced by us, or projected outward by us because of karma. Thus, when I see a waterfall and think it is real, externally existing, I show that I am attached to my sense and have made it "exist" because I am ignorant of my true self (dtman). 1 regard the materials of sense as representing objects independently existing because of my own ignorance, my own sin. My

66

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

individual, private self is hampered by conditions related to its origins, in this case, former lives. The accumulation of pressures and impulses makes me think I exist independently and causes me to emphasize my own ego's reality. These pressures result from former deeds in previous lives. Karma, which controls all, is the law that explains why I am what I am today. Negative karmic influences must be worked off, and I slowly get closer to my goal, which is recognition that I am really one with God, that I am divine. This teaching that the physical world and finite selves are fundamentally unreal is difficult for the Western supernaturalist to comprehend. A semblance of it exists in Mary Baker Eddy's Christian Science position, for there, too, the world is viewed as unreal—evil and illness being products of ignorance. Yet, Eddy's view does claim that finite human beings are independently real. The Indian view is not without its appeal, but to denominate the world of the senses as unreal, though metaphysically intriguing, changes little. If I cut my unreal finger and unreal blood gushes forth, I must still apply an unreal bandage and unreal antiseptics. The Western mind is hard to persuade on such matters. Apart from the highly sophisticated views of the Hindu that God is all reality, we do occasionally find a romantic pantheism in the Western world. Poets and popular religious writers have used the language of pantheism. The well-known Christian hymn by George Matheson, "O Love that wilt not let me go," typifies this. The second stanza reads: 0 Light that followest all my way, 1 yield my flickering torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, May brighter fairer be. The writings of the Lebanese poet, Khalil Gibran, popular with hundreds of college students through his The Prophet, imply a romantic if not sentimental pantheistic view throughout. The view involves a fusion of self, God, and nature but offers no categorical clarity and no developed doctrine. We read these things and feel edified, but they baffle the intellect. Such ambiguous vagaries attract inquiring people for a time, but they are soon set aside because of the vagueness and haze. More important historically is the position voiced by the Society of Friends asserting that a divine spark may be found in every person. Quaker philosophers such as Rufus Jones and Douglas Steere have urged this point of view, but it is not so much a developed metaphysical system of pantheism as it is an ethical position aimed at promoting awareness of the value of each individual. The poetry and meditative literature of the Quakers suggests that the aim of life is a mystical experience in which we feel identified with the Ultimate. At the same time, practical Quakerism insists that God may speak to every person as once he spoke in the past. But speaking to an individual is not becoming that individual.

What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? 67 Arguably, the philosophers Spinoza and Hegel are pantheists because the first identified God and nature and the second saw all of the world, history, and experience as in some way the dialectical unfolding of Absolute Spirit. But to defend so glib an interpretation of either of these thinkers would require intense technical commentaries. Interested students may wish to pursue this matter more seriously. Less controversy emerges in interpreting thinkers such as J. G. Fichte, Schelling, and F. H. Bradley as absolute idealists, even pantheists; but even in their thought room exists for unique individuality. When we look into the criticisms of pantheism, apart from the usual strong cultural differences between East and West, we must ask questions about the status of science and history. Are we to announce that the discoveries of the scientist and the details of human history in reality amount to nothing, to may a"? A learned Hindu philosopher once told me that even the simplest Indian, the rickshaw drivers, know that the whole world is "false." But what have we gained when we redefine the metaphysical status of the world of the senses? It is uplifting, I suppose, to announce that only God—Brahman-Atman—is ultimately real, that all else amounts to nothing, but even holy persons must breathe, drink water, and eat (or rather have food brought to them). To call food maya does not help us understand the digestive processes or the relation between nutritive maya and poisonous maya. In short, the doctrine is so metaphysical that we cannot live with it, or even write books or print advertisements urging bodily discipline or the spiritual value of yogic practices. Distinctions exist within the allegedly unreal physical world, including degrees of vividness and degrees of color and weight. To make a blanket statement that claims all is false may fit some metaphysical scheme, but it does not account intelligibly for the ordinary experience of ordinary people. Pantheism does have the advantage of avoiding the ex nihilo creation doctrine necessarily accepted by the deistic supernaturalist. More serious in any pantheistic view are questions relating to human persons. Instances of error and ignorance surely exist in finite individuals, including plenty of what may generously be called nastiness. Are these distinctions to be wiped out and denied because they too are phases, modes, or parts of the all-encompassing Supreme Being? Can the Ultimate harbor, as part of its very being, the cruelties of an Adolf Hitler or a P. W. Botha? To suggest, as Hindus do, that karmic consequences cause errors and evil deeds, is not to offer an explanation but to appeal to a mystery for the sake of saving the system. To lose distinctions between good and evil, ugliness and beauty, error and truth, by saying they are all part of the consciousness of the same being is not to solve a problem but to state it. Doctrines of total or complete immanence, asserting that God is to be identified with finite human consciousness in any sense, seem doomed to fail, at least logically. But we must notice that the view above described is a live and thriving doctrine—probably older than the religious view that emphasizes transcendence.

68

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

The religious significance of pantheistic views is that they help us understand mysticism, the claim of the person to have direct awareness of or direct access to the Supreme. We find leanings toward this not only in Christian mystics but also in Muslim Sufis, and even in some Hasidic practices found in Judaism. The more philosophic forms of Taoism have "mystical features, implying an intimacy between the finite and the infinite. Note, however, that the claims and announcements of the mystic are to be taken as reports of intense, profound experiences. In struggling for verbal expression, mystics use pantheistic language, although the traditions in which such expressions occur have insisted on the claim that God is above finite persons and may not in any sense be identified with them. On the other hand, the reports of the soul's intimacy and kinship with the divine may need to be taken into account by the philosopher. They may point to something about the nature of the Ultimate, telling us something is so that reason says can't be so. Think of the utterances of the Psalmist and the writer of the fourth Gospel. C. Theism The third major view of the relation of God to the world is generally called theism. Those who take this view are not offering a half-way position between deism and pantheism but are proposing a view that recognizes value in each without yielding to either extreme. Accordingly, theists insist that God is definitely other than finite creatures and transcends them, but also that God is active in both nature and history—at work providentially, accessible by prayer, available for fellowship—but is always separate existentially from human and other individuals. If God is immanent, he is immanent in nature and history but not in finite beings. God transcends them. "Now what can this mean? Relating theism to religious feeling and experience, and even Scripture, we may think of God as immanent in nature when the chaotic shows evidence of organization. The world was without form and void; God organized it and gave it order as a potter works over undifferentiated clay. God was and is involved in the actual process of the world, both as it was brought into being and as it continues to be. If we were now to accept the Big Bang theory of the origin of the universe, we could then say that God arranged for and planned the Big Bang, and steadily saw to it that things proceeded in an orderly way. We could say metaphorically that the world of nature can be construed as an emanation of God, his continuing process, his activity. If we would understand this relationship by reference to our own conscious experience, the following might be indicative: When I write a poem, a letter, or even my signature, I am in some sense present in it. I express myself, project part of my personality into the words or signature. Someone may recognize the handwriting as uniquely mine. I am surely more than any single poem or signature; yet I am somehow "in" the signature just as I am "in" my conversation while it is going on. My conversation is one way in which I

What Is God's Relation to the Natural World and to Living Creatures? 69 manifest myself to others. I am obviously more. Accordingly, we can say that God is in the process of nature. It is his language, as Berkeley and others who follow him have said. But God is more than nature. Berkeley saw in nature "manifest tokens of divinity." This idea does not identify God with nature or nature with God. Instead, it recognizes that nature is somehow in God, continuously dependent upon him. Incidentally, Berkeley thought that a deistic view of God was harmful both to religion and to morality. Borden P. Bowne and others viewed nature as "the divine energizing," as divine activity rather than language. Some call that view panentheism (Hartshome). Nature is in God but God is more than nature. Moreover, this view affords a proper place to the natural sciences. It sees no great gap between nature and God in the sense of the sharp dualism found in deism. There nature stands opposed to God. Theism would, then, ostensibly solve the problem posed by the conservative deistic supernaturalist who is baffled by what to do with the overwhelming evidence of evolutionary theory. Theists see the evolutionary process as the unfolding and developing of God's creative action. God develops new forms in the way described by evolutionary theists. Strictly speaking, what the scientist does is to display and make evident the secrets of God's creative activity, and it lays bare the laws by which God operates. Thus, a scientist with the religious piety of Isaac Newton may properly say that he is thinking God's thoughts after him. The truths discovered in science are to be viewed as partial truths about God. Albert Einstein, for example, thought of God as a great mathematician. But just as a human being is not fully revealed or discovered through writings, so too God is not totally laid bare to our minds when we discover the laws of his operation in some realms. We see the brilliance of William Shakespeare's mind in his thirty dramas, but no one would thereby claim to know everything about Shakespeare. Theism has long emphasized the continuing activity of the divine being. It accords with what is called "Process Theology," though it insists that God's character is permanent and that God's existence is unbegun. It does not view God as a static, external, creative cause but recognizes the reality of change and becoming. It thus partially vacates the traditional Buddhist criticism, which, in insisting that everything is impermanent, denies any eternal causal power, thereby failing to admit that the changing world may be the continual activity of a permanent intelligence who retains identity through change. No matter which view we take of God as a conscious intelligence, the problem of suffering must be faced. Deists have the problem because they must account for why miraculous interventions have not stopped awful events. Those who think all is God must similarly account for how so much can be wrong in the world. To call it may a is merely to name it, not to account for it. And if God is at work in nature as immanentalists say, then he is behaving worse than many kind human fathers behave.

70

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

The problem of the relation of God to nature becomes a central problem for those who say God is conscious and intelligent. Because so much incoherence and mystery is found, this issue may nullify'the view that God must be conceived as a person. But note that some thinkers maintain that God himself suffers. We find this theme in some Japanese thought and also in process thought as found in Whitehead and Hartshorne. 4. How Is God Related to the Good and Valuable? The religious consciousness across space and time has always thought of the Supreme in relation to what is regarded as good and evil. While some aberrational views may say that the Ultimate is supporting evil (for example, Arthur Schopenhauer), none of the traditional eleven religions of the world ever say this. They do differ on how evil comes into the world and how it can be explained, but that is another topic. Religions that emphasize a God think of God as in some sense the creative energy supporting the good. Those who view God as nonconscious and impersonal similarly say that God is to be identified with the good in some way, as its creative source, as its constant support and sustainer (for example, Whitehead). In theoretical Hinduism, God is seen as above the good, as more than the good and as beyond it, and hence, fundamentally indifferent to it. While lesser manifestations of the one God may be seen as creator and preserver, another popular aspect may see him as a destroyer. But theoretically Brahman-Atman is beyond the good and does not engage actively in the world. This is also the case with Aristotle's actus purus—without its modification by Saint Thomas Aquinas—as a basic description of God. Pure actuality reflects purposiveness but is not an object of goodness that we could adore or worship. The same is true for Alexander's nisus. For an impersonalistic humanist, God becomes a term for the highest standards of value. Thus, when we struggle for the best we know, we are approaching God. Religious experience claims that God is on the side of the good and that he is opposed to evil. This view is evident in Parsee faith, which views God as a god of light (whose symbol is fire, Ahura Mazda). And Ahura Mazda stands in eternal opposition to the evil force of darkness, Ahriman or Angra Mainyu. The two are viewed as in a constant struggle, but faith holds that the God of Light will eventually win out. Judaism is not so sharply dualistic but traditionally has claimed a Satan, who as a fallen, willful angel disobeyed" God and opposed him. Some strict literalist Christians and Muslims have taken a similar view as derived from Judaism. God, the Lord, Allah, is good but he has opposition from a devil who may have a legion of helpers. Whether any theologian or philosopher holds to a counterforce or Satan in this fashion—except for those we may call Fundamentalists—is doubtful. The dilemmas are intellectually insurmountable since, for instance, the all-good God is still responsible for allowing an evil being to come into existence.

How Is God Related to the Good and Valuable?

71

Thus, God is seen as basically good. And piety invokes such words as Merciful Father, gracious, benevolent, kind, and so forth, to describe the religious response to such a good God. How is God related to the good? The philosophical attempt to clarify the relation of God to good may be approached in a threefold way. (1) God can be viewed as the source of all that humans and creatures enjoy—their blessings, from life itself to the beauties of nature, the glories of science, and the daily joys of life. God is viewed as the "fount of every blessing," where "blessing" means simply the fact of joy or value. (2) But God's relation to the good in a second sense means that he himself is good in intention. Muslims say he is merciful and worshipful. Jews also say merciful but add loving, as do Christians and Sikhs. Jews think of God as a loving father and so do Christians. One branch of Shintoism cleverly speaks of God as a parent to imply loving concern but to remove lingering attachments to maleness. Religious devotees as well as thinkers often dwell on the goodness of God as his salient feature, even saying that behind a gloomy countenance a smile is to be found. Generally, the idea of goodness is linked with forgiveness and sometimes even with suffering and cooperation, though religions differ on this point. (3) The third way God is viewed as relating to the good is that he is the upholder of standards of morality, justice, truth, and beauty. God is aware of the truth about all these areas of human life and nature and, just as we might discover the laws of physics, so too can we discover the laws of justice and righteousness that are his. This idea finds early expression in Judaism in the form of the Ten Commandments, which are proposals and standards for conduct directly issuing from God. Even the earlier code of Hammurabi preserves such a divine source. The Jewish and Christian traditions are full of explicit teaching on what God requires of his followers, not only morally but even ceremonially. The same note is to be found in Islam. We do not find it in Taoism (yet we should be like the Tao) or Confucianism, and the moral principles of the Shinto deities are obscure. The idea of God's linkage with morality and justice has been a major factor in Western theological and philosophical discussion. Some earlier thinkers thought we could derive moral principles from God himself. But beginning with Immanuel Kant, scholars began to say that the presence of a moral standard in human experience is itself a testimony to God, for moral standards must be known by some conscious being in order to be meaningful; hence, God exists as their conscious source. Or, to say it another way, since Kant the presence of moral values in the world has been taken as evidence for the existence of God, while some of the traditional "proofs" from causation, design, and ontology have been discounted. The only person who denies a grounding of value in the universe is an atheist. Atheists must, strictly speaking, say that anything we call good is a mere convention or an expression of human desire or taste; it has no status in

72

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

the universe as a whole. That is one of the hardest things to accept in the atheist mode of thinking. While easily disposing of the notorious problem of evil, an atheist cannot meet objections that suggest structural laws of human value that seem firmly grounded in the universe itself (such as laws of nutrition or laws of child psychology showing the need for love to infants or treatment of the mentally ill). The structure of value-law or standards is basic to all religions that employ the idea of God, even the tangential ones of general being. (While this Tillichian being may be viewed as personal, he is still the ground of all that is good.) 5. What Is the Relation of God to Time, History, and Events? Questions bearing on the nature and existence of God are at base metaphysical questions more than epistemic or logical questions. One of the most difficult is the relation of the Ultimate to time. Much of religious experience throughout the world holds that God is the eternal, utterly timeless, reality, in no way entrapped or limited by time but wholly beyond it. For God, human time amounts to little. This is the mood of the Psalmists, the Upanishadic writers, and others. In examining the claims of religious believers, two basic positions emerge: (1) the Ultimate is completely beyond time. This we may call the eternalist view. And (2) the Ultimate is somehow linked to time and in time. This we may call the temporalist view. Even if we were to say that God is in time and yet in another way transcends it, that would still be a temporalist view. No half-way view exists. The eternalist view is the traditional position in most practicing religions. For believers to see how the ultimate ground of the universe could be anything more than completely eternal is impossible, which means God is unbegun and unending. The eternal one cannot have begun to be at some time; at no time was he not. This eternalist view is usually coupled with the unchangeableness of God and is vigorously defended by Vedantist thinkers. God is completely apart from time, history, persons, and nature. This view is, of course, linked to the doctrine that the world as we perceive it is maya. Nothing can affect God one way or another on this view. Human actions and history are affected by the law of karma and in turn have effects on karmic law. But the eternal is above karmic law as well. When we enter into bliss, it is a timeless bliss. While Buddhists do not speak with one voice on the question of God, they do insist that the highest form of human existence (or nonexistence) is also timeless (that is, Nirvana). In Taoism, too, the Tao is evidently eternal, for if we could even name it, it would no longer be the Tao. In the religions of the Near East, commencing with Zoroastrianism, the Ultimate is also viewed as the timeless, eternal, unchanging source of all, but with some differences. These religions with one accord stress the role of the

What Is the Relation of God to Time, History, and Events?

73

divine in history. Judaism sees Jehovah as guiding and furthering the destiny of Israel, as entering into a covenant relationship, which binds him and Israel in a moral unity. If Israel honors the covenant, God will see to it that his children prosper. The same is true in Christian and Muslim belief. Both regard God as eternal, but they also stress that he is much interested in what his devotees do. Indeed, those who shun him or do evil will be strongly judged on Judgment Day, the end of time and history. The idea of the end of time suggests that God is letting a few things happen in the. drama of human history but in the end all will turn out according to his plan and purpose. Squaring this eternalism with the idea that God is at work in history is difficult. The usual response of the theologians is that the whole thing is a mystery. God is eternal and unchanging and yet works in history, rewarding and punishing those who obey and disobey him, respectively. This suggests that God is affected by what happens in history because his judgment of individuals is made on the basis of what they do. We can see now how extreme Calvinism can occur in order to preserve the utter eternality of God because it says that God does all the action and that we can do nothing on our own but simply indulge the hope that we might be one among the elect. To say that someone can do anything on his or her own would logically imply that God would pay attention to that and judge the person accordingly. This would make God in some way "dependent" on human choice. Most Jews and Christians (and possibly some Muslims) would not take so strong a view of God as being totally separate. But if God is not wholly above time, then is he God any longer? Can the eternal in any way be affected by temporal events? The Vedantist is the most logically consistent here, along with strict followers of Aristotle. To get around the problem, some appeal again to mystery as their solution, but many are committed to seeking, not to giving up in the face of problems. In Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, normal piety insists that God is somehow involved in human affairs, while being eternal at the same time. The Christian doctrine of the person of Christ and his relation to God indicates the strong Christian belief that God is involved in time. Indeed, the orthodox view says that the Holy One, the eternal, entered time in an incarnation. Without getting involved in theology or Christology, we must raise the philosophical question. Christians say God became human, and some say that God suffered on Calvary. This is surely a time-bound circumstance. Muslims who stress the eternity of God perhaps more consistently than Christians shun the idea of an incarnation or any sort of theophany. Islam means submission to Allah. We do not cooperate with him but do what we must do, offering all to Allah but never for a moment thinking that Allah is actually affected by what we do. But one area of religious experience apparently goes against a strong eternalist view—the area of prayer. For the eternalist, prayer can only mean meditation on the wonder of the Ultimate, or it can be adoration and thanksgiving. Prayer might request mercy and forgiveness, but any prayer of petition that asks the Ultimate to do something different in the world seems to

74

THE CONCEPT OF GOD

suggest that prayer can make a difference to God. If it can make a difference to God then God is affected by history. Here is where piety is an intrinsic part of most religious experience. Does it presume to think that the Ultimate is in any way affected? Many religious people will simply pray, "Thy will be done," and forthwith proceed to suggest that whatever happens is indeed the will of God, meaning (though ambiguously) the working out of a prearranged plan. So, prayer must be merely the adopting of an attitude of acquiescence in what is. This is scarcely what we find in Jewish, Christian, Sikh, or Parsee experience. Elijah prayed to God to strike fire on the altars of the .worshipers of Baal and according to the story, fire came to verify who was the true God. Jesus repeatedly urges his followers to pray, saying "ask and ye shall receive." If a child asks for bread will his father give a stone? Accordingly, actual religious piety feels that prayer to an utterly eternal God makes a difference. Consider also the popular Hindu view that also involves prayer to lesser gods in seeking particular assistance. In Roman Catholic views, ordinary people sometimes pray to accessible saints for direct assistance. Pilgrimage spots in Europe are full of notes and signs from people who thank a saint for a particular act of kindness in restoring health. This prayer via saints implies that saints as mediators may do things more readily than an eternalist Ultimate. One other critical remark needs to be made. Development and evolution have apparently taken place since the earliest days. Scientists continue to unearth evidence indicating that present forms of life have arisen from earlier forms. Marxists even believe in social evolution. Astronomers have strong evidence for the evolution of the galaxies from an earlier state. All this suggests (if we believe in God), that God is not an ultimate do-nothing who contemplates existence, a mere "edge" of a first cause, but that he is creatively at work in existence throughout the world even now. Philosophical support for eternalism has also been strong in thinkers after Aristotle, especially in Spinoza and up through Kant. Berkeley recognized the problem when he said that to discuss God and time would get us "lost and embrangled in a host of difficulties." With Hegel, we get a wholly different point of view. The absolute is in dialectical development. The Idea is process. Hegel had a philosophy of development thirty years before Charles Darwin's Origin of Species (1859). With the appearance of revolutionary doctrine, some new efforts to define the relation of God to time developed. One of the most distinguished was Alexander's Space, Time, and Deity. God is definitely linked to the temporal order, and we wonder whether any transcendence remains. Personalistic idealists such as E. S. Brightman also urged a temporalist view of God as logically coherent as well as in keeping not only with the testimony of religious experience but also with the evidence of growth and development in the sciences—notably, astronomy, biology, and geology. But the most outstanding philosopher of recent times who has taken a clearly temporalist view of God is Whitehead in Process and Reality. In this view, God is so close

What Is the Relation of God to Time, History, and Events?

75

to time that critics think the God of the religious worship and faith has all but disappeared. Hartshorne has made Whitehead's views more explicit in his total rejection of the eternalist position. Critically speaking, we must ask whether a God so conditioned by time has any fundamental ultimacy left in him. Whitehead speaks of God's two natures, primordial and consequent. Religious believers have found this not in keeping with their experience. A God so trapped in the time sequence cannot be the ultimate ground of existence. What happens is that the idea of God gets so redefined that it no longer jibes with the thoughtful claims of believers. The truth is the main thing, but we need to ask about the relation between thousands of years of belief in the Ultimate and the idea that no Ultimate exists. Yet a pure eternalism seems equally unacceptable unless we are prepared to say that all natural order and history mean nothing or are to be construed as maya. When we think of all the time that has passed and all that may yet come, the span of one human life seems totally inconsequential, a mere tick of a clock as Spinoza might say. On the other hand, within the brief span of seventy years, we see growth, creativity, pain, illness, suffering, and joy. These things do take place and people must deal with them. Mass suicide is not warranted merely because individual life is so fleeting and inconsequential. We need to remind ourselves that we are the beings who are finding all this out. We are the finite, limited minds who are trying to grasp what this flick of existence might mean. And religious minds think it does mean something, even in the sweep of the eternal. Human beings are insignificant, and the Psalmist's query "What is man that Thou art mindful of him?" can be answered by noting that people at least recognize a Thou and seek the Eternal. Some wish only to acquiesce silently. Some curiously seek understanding. Others give it all up to mystery, while others seek to work with and cooperate with the Ultimate in promoting the good, the true, the beautiful, and the holy. In a sense, the Eternal is, as has been said, a deeply obligated being. He made creatures without their request or approval. Have we not the right to ask who he is and what he is doing and why? We refuse to be put down by saying that God is all and that we are mere nothings. We can properly ask: If we are mere nothings, why did he bother to make us? The motives of God are no doubt unfathomable, but we cannot allow persons from an ancient time who viewed the Ultimate as scarcely better than the Oriental despot they knew in their time to dictate how we must think of God today. Furthermore, linked to this is the idea of Providence. In the Near Eastern religions, this is a strong and clear belief. We may not regard it as merely symbolic if we take the idea of God seriously. If Providence is to mean anything, it requires some clear presence of God in time. Thus, we could say God is timeless in the sense of unbegun and unending. Nevertheless, he is involved in time in some way—in realms clarified by the scientist, in history, and in daily human affairs.

Five GOD AND ARGUMENTS Manifestly, more than two billion people on the planet who currently believe in God did not arrive at their beliefs by- careful processes of logical analysis or deduction. Nor have most of the atheists in the world worked out their concepts by skillful argumentation. We may like to think that our views can be supported by argument, but usually our convictions about God developed in a cultural context over a period of years. They are most often not the result of rigorous disciplined thinking in scientific seminars or in philosophical forums. That is also true about our attitude toward scientific medicine, patriotic devotion, the sentimental trust in military power, our economic allegiance, or our nutritional preferences. These are not things we initially decide upon abstractly and openmindedly, as we might carefully select an automobile after weighing its merits and defects among options available. Natural pressures and circumstances figure more heavily in topics bearing upon our value attitudes than do reason and argumentation. This is not to say that reason is useless and arguments irrelevant or that a person is so molded and conditioned by his or her background as to make impossible a fair-minded, logical attitude when investigating the question of whether belief in God is warranted. Nor would we say that our family patterns of eating are so insistent and motivated that it would be impossible ever to decide what a proper human diet should be, let alone to change our eating habits. The fact is that minds studying such matters have found out, with considerable objectivity, what food and drink is best and what dietary items should be avoided. Some have become vegetarians and even opponents of red meat. Evidence and reasons are not only given, they are accepted and trusted. The burden of proof is on the person who suggests that on matters of religion, especially belief in God, we cannot or should not try to find out what is true. Beliefs come before arguments, convictions before debate, but discussion and argument can be entered into for the sake of testing pet ideas or inherited preferences, religious or otherwise. Just as we may change eating patterns on the basis of evidence, or may alter an uncritical patriotic fear for good reasons, we may also change our beliefs about God, either for or against. Or, just as we may find, upon examination, that our inherited political preferences are justifiable, so too we may discover, after thoughtful examination, that no good reason exists for giving up our inherited beliefs about God. Once the question is raised by an inquiring mind, the issue is: Is my belief sound or true or isn't it? Another kind of question would be: What is to be retained from my traditional faith and what is to be rejected and for what reasons?

78

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

Philosophers do not create the problems they are trying to solve. As they survey human experience thoughtfully, they find persuasive, traditional teachings about God, complex lines of thought about a divine being, and unique, often novel, proposals and claims about what is supreme or ultimate. They are duty-bound to evaluate and judge such claims critically with a view to arriving at truth. Accordingly, while beliefs do not usually spring from rational analysis, they may be studied and checked by rational inquiry. On the question of the existence of God, efforts have been made to apply rational techniques at least as early as the sixth century B.C. For traditional a.theists, the risk is that rational judgment may compel a change of mind toward belief in God (as Romanes and Joad, for example). For the person who already believes in God, the risk of rational inquiry is such that we may be persuaded to abandon such belief in the interest of serving truth first instead of remaining blindly loyal to a powerful tradition. The aim of this chapter is to examine and evaluate some of the arguments that have been offered for supporting the existence of God. We must notice that some persons divert attention away from philosophical argument by offering theories of how the idea of God arose in human experience—how it was caused, what motivated it, or how it evolved. To ask for the cause of an idea is not the same as to ask for its rational basis. Some intellectuals, unable to see any rationality among believers in God, have therefore focused on psychological, cultural, social, or even economic forces and factors that might have been at work in producing or stimulating belief in God. Some have alleged they have found the "cause" in the deeper recesses of the human psyche, perhaps the human longing and need for a "father figure." Others, such as Ludwig Feuerbach, see the idea of God as necessitated by the social group. It becomes a projection of human wishes, not an account of the nature of the world. And some may see belief in God as an invention of crafty politicians or class interests, developed for the sake of keeping ordinary people comfortable or silent while they are being used or oppressed. Some Buddhists have tried to trace monotheism not to an original revelation but to an error of assumption by human beings. While such efforts at looking into the causes of a belief may be interesting, they have no philosophical worth. Indeed, we could with equal force ask for the causes of atheism and investigate its evolution as Borden P. Bowne once did in 1888 in an article called "The Natural History of Atheism." We may also notice that the mental health of vocal atheists does not appear to be much better than that of devout believers. But such things do not touch the issues and must be set aside summarily. Questions always arise of how we will argue, what we mean by reason, what rules we will follow, or what sort of arguments will be accepted, and so on. We may not presume to put strictures on argumentation in advance, announcing even before we consider them which arguments will be accepted and which will not, or whether arguments are even relevant. Some recent theologians, such as Paul Tillich, have said that no arguments for the existence of God are acceptable. Besides ignoring over twenty centuries of serious


79

thought, that negative position is question-begging, for it is based on a concept of God that by its nature precludes arguments—a concept itself worthy of discussion. Other thinkers have suggested that they will not accept arguments based on evidence or experience because such arguments could not possibly establish the existence of a perfect, ultimate being. Even the strong theistic philosopher George Berkeley recognized that we could raise doubts about the nature of arguments even before any were considered. In his dialogue Alciphron (1730), one of the speakers says he will not be persuaded by metaphysical arguments, "such for instance as are drawn from the idea of an all-perfect being, or the absurdity of an infinite progression of causes." And he adds, I think wisely, that he will not be persuaded "by the authority of the past or present ages of mankind in general, or of particular wise men," adding that all proofs based on practical value, "utility, or convenience are foreign to the purpose." Nor can we say in advance that no argument for God is acceptable, being of necessity out of harmony with the scientific view of the world. The venue for arguments cannot be decided in an appropriate way. Surely, no single "scientific" view or orthodox "scientific" method exists that lets us decide in advance that no arguments can be given. We might suggest that the kind of reason that enables us to establish scientific hypotheses and theories cannot be out of harmony with the kind of reason employed in developing theories about God and the universe. Bearing in mind methodological debates, I now proceed to examine some of the arguments that emerge from human thought about God. We must also bear in mind the content of Chapter Four, namely, that the specific idea of God argued about is important. My approach will focus primarily on the idea of God as an intelligent consciousness, in some sense the ultimate creative force responsible for all (that is, nature and individuals). That seems to be the dominant belief held throughout the world by ordinary believers of faiths such as Judaism, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, and Sikhism. The belief is also implicit in Confucianism, Shintoism, and possibly Taoism. Buddhists have no strong idea of God; some oppose theism directly. Jains offer arguments against belief in God, which 1 will consider in my discussion. Instead of beginning with the so-called "classical" formulations of philosophers from the twelfth through the seventeenth centuries—as if "classical" arguments accepted by philosophers of religion existed—I will consider arguments that seem to grow out of human religious experience and claims. Then, I will consider some of those positions developed by Saint Thomas Aquinas and others. As will be evident, those traditional arguments have an abstract, theoretical character dependent on a string of concepts and definitions largely foreign to practicing religious believers throughout the world, even though well-known in the closets of technical philosophers.

80

GOD AND ARGUMENTS 1. The Argument from Religious Experience

The appeal to religious experience as a basis for belief in God is not the same as what is sometimes called the empirical argument for God. The empirical argument considers various evidence in nature and history; the appeal to experience is concerned only with claims that God has been experienced, directly or indirectly. People come to their faith in the Supreme Being through some sort of experience long before they philosophize about it. From the earliest days, they have been taught to mumble children's prayers in the home or have from birth been associated with a religious community. Thro' Him the first fond prayers are said Our lips of childhood frame The last low whispers of our dead Are burdened with His Name. Most religious communities make a point of developing religious awareness in children apart from argument. Think of the Bar and Bat Mitzvahs of Judaism, Confirmation in Christianity, early religious education in Islam, coming-of-age ceremonies in Zoroastrianism, and the like. The child is made to feel that a Supreme Being exists who is in some way concerned with him or her in the religious community. They grow up with some "experience" of God in the general sense. Later in life, people who have had strong religious experiences while in a community of believers may abandon their beliefs, give up faith in God. Sometimes their departure from the "fold" may be for carefully worked out reasons. More often it is the result of some shock of vivid negative experience that turns their world awry. Some drift away listlessly, just as they turn away from childhood games. But religious experience may be a ground for belief in God in another sense than through indoctrination or influence upon early life. We may have a unique, striking experience that points us toward God, and we do not argue such things. When Vivekananda came in the presence of the Hindu saint Sri Ramakrishna in the last century, he was struck dumb and came to a realization of God. Or it may be an experience as luminous as that of Saint Paul on the road to Damascus, or the vivid response of Moses before the burning bush thirteen centuries earlier, or of Mohammed's graphic confrontation with Allah in the seventh century. Such personal encounters are so rousing that a change in the direction of life occurs and we say that God is the cause. We move from darkness into light, so the claim goes, and the consequences are often weighty and, as in the cases mentioned, have shaped history. Persons who through striking experiences come to belief in God at ages after adolescence, possibly as mature adults, usually cannot be argued with. They are sure their experiences are prompted by the Divine One.

The Argument from Religious Experience

81

Many less-dramatic experiences have also led people to believe in God and make God the organizing center of their lives. When we make a conscious commitment to the Supreme One and thereby enter into a new relationship or mode of life, we are led to affirm the existence of God without quaking. When we are delivered from pain, confusion, mental anguish, or sheer wantonness, when our life takes on new luster and meaning as a result of such decision, we easily conclude that a ndnhuman power has been at work. Martin Luther King, Jr., spoke of his own belief in God as "validated in the experience of everyday life."2 Some also make efforts through discipline and earnest striving to cultivate experiences of God, which they then accept as guarantees of God's reality. In the Hebrew Psalms we read: "My soul thirsteth for Thee. My flesh longeth for Thee" (Ps. 63), or "My heart and flesh cry out for the living God" (Ps. 84). Sincere members of the Society of Friends, for example, engage in disciplined seeking after the divine in the form of what they call the Inner Light, and from the time of George Fox, thousands have claimed direct experience of God. This is the case among those with a mystical bent in all of the world's theistic religions. But such seeking after experiences of the divine is not normative in all religions by any mean's. In addition to having first-hand experiences that seem to attest to the existence of a divine being, we may feel warranted in believing in God by heeding reports and claims of those who have had such experiences. Two distinguished Hindu philosophers have written: "Those who have no direct experience must depend on the authority of those rare blessed souls who are pure in heart and have seen God." And they add that the Scriptures that report what the seers have experienced "may be accepted as a source of right knowledge about God."3 The writer of the Book of Hebrews in the New Testament, after listing examples of faith in God, concludes with a call to action and perseverance, "since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses" (Heb. 12:1). This matter of reported experiences that point to belief in God takes on still more significance when we notice the funding of similar experiences over a long period, perhaps in an unbroken line of saints and sages extending back in time as many as three thousand years. Successions of believers in God, apostolic or not, provide interesting material for our thought. To be sure, the endurance of an idea through centuries is no guarantee of its validity. Many errors have a long and persistent history. Nor may we conclude that God exists just because the idea of his existence has been securely maintained from the earliest days. Yet, we must ask: Does the repeated experience of wise people— saints and sages—count for nought? In a speech given in Cambridge in 1984, the Archbishop of Canterbury (Robert Runcie) said: "We must at least give heed to a belief when it has been filtered through the experiences of enlightened and thoughtful persons in different parts of the world over long years."

82

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

We may not say that such experiences are either a necessary or a sufficient reason for belief in God. We may say that vivid claims of apparently honest thinkers that have not only been repeated but have borne such fruit in the whole of human history are worthy of attention. For those already leaning toward belief in God, such reports are at least confirmatory, if not convincing. When we find a conjunction of good argument and noteworthy productive experiences, to settle on belief in God is not wholly unreasonable. I must add a word about something close to experience, namely, experiment. One way of establishing or verifying a hypothesis in the natural or social sciences is to test it experimentally. Is this possible when determining whether God exists? What conceivable experiment could indicate the existence of an ultimate intelligence maintaining all of existence? Some have requested that God give them a specific sign to verify his existence. The resulting claims are a history of aberrant vagaries that tell more about the inquirer than about the ultimate being. Superficial efforts have been made to test the validity of prayer and, hence, establish the existence of God, by putting aside two groups of plants with the purpose of noting whether plants that were prayed over flourished better than those that were not. But who could adequately construct a controlled experiment of that type? The very idea violates religious sensibilities almost as much as the blasphemous nineteenth-century suggestion that we could verify God's existence if hospital patients in one ward, for whom prayers were said, fared better than patients in another ward for whom no prayers were offered. But a factor of experiment exists in several religions—a factor that suggests that if we sample or try out belief in God, the consequences of so doing will produce rewarding and possibly persuasive benefits. The Psalmist writes: "Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good. Happy is the man who takes refuge in him" (Ps. 34:8). In the Gospel of John, we find a verse that says that if we try to do what is right, we will know that it is of God (John 7:17). Jesus proposed that one test of belief is in its results, it fruits. And the Bhagavad Gita suggests that we might try several paths to attaining. God-realization. The logical force of such invitations is minimal. No one has time to sample competing beliefs about the Ultimate and, to be fair, we would also need to try out anti-theistic views to see what benefits they might produce. Life is too short and time too precious for that sort of thing. Belief in God in both East and West has truly resulted in some strikingly changed lives and in remarkable advances in human well-being and culture. Saint Augustine's creative energies were released after his conversion. Opposition to the slave trade was united by believers. Johann Sebastian Bach was no theologian but he composed, as he himself said, "soli deo gloria" (for the glory of God alone), and the resulting music has not yet been equaled. Gothic cathedrals are wonders of the world, and these were not dedicated to human beings. Nor were the marvelous temples in India. Yet, at the same time, I must note that belief in God has also apparently issued in a veritable

The Argument from Beauty and Design in the Natural World

83

menagerie of fanaticism, cruelty, wars, and persistent folly. However interesting may be the appeal to historical experience, we cannot make much headway by this sort of discussion. Indeed, generally speaking, the appeal to experience" is weakened by the negative evidence that may be adduced regarding subjective experience. Believers often resort to special pleading when they say their experience testifies to the Ultimate. Many honest persons do not and even cannot claim to have had experiences that point them to God or serve as a warrant for belief. And possibly those who come to God through some vital personal experience may be led away from such belief by some tragedy, such as the death of a loved one or the birth of a deformed infant. They may then announce that their bitter experience indicates that no God exists at all. The primary difficulty in appealing to human experience as evidence for the existence of God is epistemological. That some being other than ourselves can be experienced in the same way as we are aware of our own existence is not obvious. I may be said to experience directly and immediately some black marks on white paper, and I might soon come to accept those marks as printed letters. I may come to know what those alphabetical letters mean if they are in a language intelligible to me. But suppose they are in the Icelandic language? I will still have before me the black marks, but some time will pass before I can interpret or infer the meaning. Now, that the being of God is an immediate datum of my consciousness in the same way as are the black printed marks I see is difficult to say. I may have evidence in my experience that points to God's existence. I do not have his existence as evidence itself. But alternate ways exist of interpreting and judging what is present to me in conscious awareness. Where one person may claim a direct awareness of God, another may report an inexplicable warm sensation or a vivid feeling without asserting anything about God at all. Merely having an experience that we may think of as an experience of the Divine One is no guarantee that it is the Divine One. Even advanced Hindus who claim that God can be immediately realized and known must nevertheless offer evidence to their guru or confreres that what has happened in them is not a case of delusion or dementia. Knowledge seems to consist of inference from evidence, but is not the evidence itself, else we could never make a mistake. Perhaps inference from evidence is one way of establishing the existence of God. 2. The Argument from Beauty and Design in the Natural World Religious people who are aware of the need to express their belief in an Ultimate One by appealing to something other than their own experience will often present straightforward observations about the beauty, design, and order in the natural world. These things, they say, testify that an intelligent, purposive designer, or God at work in some sense. How account for the glories of nature to eye and ear if no purposive intelligence sponsors them? Could the vast

84

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

beauty of the natural world be a mere accident? Once, upon hearing the young Yehudi Menuhin perform on the violin with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra years ago, Albert Einstein, after the concert, rushed up and embraced the boy exclaiming: "Now I know that there is a God in heaven."4 The presence of beauty in the natural world as well as in human beings seems best understood when viewed as the product of God. And how can we explain the fitness of the bee for the flower and the flower for the bee if these are not examples of intelligent planning? Moreover, on every level of scientific observation we find patterns, order, and a persistence of regularity that suggest a supreme intelligence is their basis. The so-called "design argument," or teleological argument for the existence of God has been formulated by a long tradition of philosophers, beginning with Aristotle and extending until modern times. Immanuel Kant thought this alone of the traditional arguments had merit even though it did not yield deductive certitude. David Hume claimed some people had "fatally weakened" the argument, but his discussion stops with eighteenth-century formulations and did not anticipate what nineteenth- and twentieth-century philosophers said in the light of evolutionary and other findings. Hume's line of reasoning might have bearing on William Paley's famous watchmaker analogy, but no serious philosopher of religion in the last century and a half has taken this line seriously. If we limit ourselves merely to evidence in the natural order that suggests purposive design, such as the adaptability and regenerative power of animals, we can find considerable weight in the argument. But little unanimity exists among contemporary scientists. In his Chance and Necessity, Jacques Monod sees nothing but mechanistic determinism. For him, apparent purposiveness is a result of necessity. W. H. Thorpe, an ethologist, in answering Monod in his Purpose in a World of Chance, claims purpose is behind all mechanical necessity. He cites particular and statistical evidence of apparent purpose in the animal world. The accumulation of such positive evidence can be counterbalanced not by the mere assertion of a naive scientific realism but by evidence of failures in the natural order—not just malformations and the tremendous waste in natural processes but in the dreary history of extinct species, dead ends in the animal kingdom, and the definitely predictable prospect of overpopulation and insufficient food for human beings in the next three or four centuries. C. D. Broad once observed that the ideologist who heeded the ways of the locust and the lemming would be "a sadder but a wiser man." Consider also the success of muscular dystrophy, AIDS, Parkinson's Disease, and wild cancerous growths. If we see evidence for a supreme intelligence in nature, what do we do with ugliness, disorder, and so many facts that indicate total purposelessness? (I will discuss this theme fully in Chapter Six.) Until we ponder more thoughtfully the process of evolution itself, the negative evidence in the biological sciences seems weighty enough to frustrate

The Argument from Beauty and Design in the Natural World

85

the teleological argument for God. To be sure, nature is "red in tooth and claw" and the fierce struggle for survival persists. Only the fittest have endured. But, we may ask, how do any fit species occur at all that might engage in the intense struggle to survive? For the fittest to survive implies, as -J.- G. Schurman noted over a century ago, an "arrival of the fit." The very evidence used to support evolution also becomes evidence for an intelligent purposive power in control of the process itself. A little reflection shows that the so-called conflict between creationism and evolutionism, which is rehearsed about every thirty years, not only is a misunderstanding of the theories involved but is a pseudo-problem springing from a questionable crass neo-supernaturalistic view of the deity. Furthermore, the natural world, far from making life impossible, conduces to the development of human life and well-being. Peter Bertocci remarks: "The kind of existence we know and enjoy as human beings is rooted in, if not confined to the orderly forces in the inorganic and organic world."5 J. G. Fichte held the extreme but not impossible view that the world existed solely for the development of moral character. The world of nature is "the material of duty made visible of soul-making." Plato offered evidence and reasons implying that the world as a whole is structured to support the good and thwart evil. In this view, evil by its own intrinsic nature will self-destruct; the good will thrive. The long haul of history since his time does not readily convince us that Plato was right, but his view of a universal dependable moral structure grounded in reality is not wholly unreasonable and is an unchangeable prerequisite and feature in the pervasive Oriental doctrine of karma. This implies that the universe is so built that no creature can violate the moral order without suffering consequences either in this life or another. The argument can take still another turn. Those who argue from the presence of purposive facts in nature to a divine purpose may willingly admit that the array of facts indicating design can be counterbalanced by negative facts, but they have something else to add that undercuts both negative and positive evidence. I must call attention to the reliability of natural laws, commencing perhaps with the wheeling of the planets and the processes of the outward-bound galaxies, then moving to the biological realm. To be sure, devastating facts of misery and chaos exist in the world, but discoverable laws also exist that explain and clarify the nature of these things and allow us to make predictions. Cancerous growths are an abomination, yet a scientist may find the law of their growth and make reasonable predictions, just as we may predict with assurance that the absence of vitamin C will result in scurvy and the presence of vitamin D can prevent rickets. Such discernible laws are not happenstance. Insofar as they are true or valid, they may be trusted. At this point, the teleologist can claim not that the simple facts of design suggest an intelligence but instead that the reliability of the laws of nature suggests an intelligence who is the guarantor of their reliability. The presence of natural laws may imply a designer, but the reliability and trustworthiness of those laws clearly does. Even the most committed scientist is baffled, having no

86

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

explanation for the simplicity of the laws of nature and no way whatsoever of giving an account of why they are so trustworthy. A scientific thinker such as Julian Huxley can only say: "we must learn to accept the world as the one basic mystery." To explain why the laws of nature can be trusted is outside the function of the scientist. The scientist can only discover and report those laws but cannot tell us why such laws exist, let alone why they may be trusted. Yet scientists and their colleagues work with that reliability every day, or no science would exist at all. The cosmologist Stephen Hawking asserts a consistency at the deepest level of nature, which is what all scientists believe. "If we were not to believe we might as well give up."6 The religious response to this aspect of teleology is profound. It calls attention to the faithfulness of God in dealing with his creatures. The recognition of that faithfulness evokes practical piety and reverence in the believer, which in turn elicits feelings of security, stability, consolation, and hope in hours of confusion and pain. God is not merely a designer of marvelous artifacts; he may be depended upon anytime. This is the testimony of the Book of Job and other similar reports. To suggest in a dour romantic mood of despair that life is absurd, lacks meaning, and that no guiding intelligence or God exists in the universe, is simply not to be aware of the work of generations of scientists who know the universe is not absurd. Indeed, Robert Patterson cleverly suggests that if we say "the universe is totally irrational, that would seem to imply that the universe was prevented from being rational by some external agency."7 Scientists work out the engineering details to make possible a trip to the moon with' the sure sense that the physical laws making possible a rocket lift-off can also be depended upon to allow for the rocket's return. The laws of physics do not change in outer space. If something unpredictable happened, the scientist would immediately look for the law or principle that would account for the deviation and would not rest until having wrested that law from the evidence. Thus, the so-called teleological argument of tradition may be vacated, or we may say it takes on new meaning when the theist calls attention to the reliability of natural laws. We may not choose to believe in an intelligent God as their source, but what account can then be given? As Bowne once put it: "The continuity of law, therefore, is a pure postulate which must either be referred to an abiding purpose in the cosmic intelligence, or else be accepted out of hand as an opaque fact."8 Some scientists accept the presence of dependable natural laws with, they say, "natural piety," but they attempt no other account. Note that those scientists who have the clearest and firmest laws in the natural sciences are often likely to believe in intelligent purposive divinity. But scientists in the psychological and social sciences, where laws are scarcely firm and vary among countries (as do the laws of psychology and sociology in the USA), frown on a theistic view of the universe and try to explain away belief in an abiding intelligence, not by denying objective

The Argument from the Alleged Need of a Cause

87

evidence but by probing the obscure motives of the believers themselves. That this approach backfires is something such scientists cannot on the whole admit. 3. The Argument from the Alleged Need of a Cause Even an unsophisticated mind not exposed to technical philosophy will think that some way must exist to account for the very presence of the world itself. And we readily think that things that are here now came into being through some cause. What we have before us are effects of something that went before them. Moreover, we know that what we have before us now will no doubt be causally related to what happens next. Today's experience is causally related to yesterday's and tomorrow's will be causally related to today's. That a causal sequence. connects all things appears unquestionable to common sense. This further implies that everything has an underlying cause, and thus that some initial cause that started the whole sequence must exist. Must not of necessity a first cause or an uncaused cause exist, something that is its own cause, a causa sui, as Benedict Spinoza put it? This first, necessary, and uncaused cause would then be the equivalent of the Ultimate, the divine being, God. Some have accepted this as an argument for the existence of God. But to accept it is not easy. Is the first cause the God of religious believers? They believe that God did not just begin a causal chain but is causing things to happen all the time and will continue to do so. How can a first cause be a present cause? And if a present cause exists, could it still be a first cause? The first cause could merely be the stuff existing before the "Big Bang" occurred, out of which the cosmic process issued. When religious persons worship, do they revere an uncaused cause? Is such a cause the providential guardian of history? What would it mean to be devoted to seek unity with, or offer prayers to, such a cause? Apparently, no reason exists to'conclude that a first cause must also be an intelligent, conscious being. Moreover, the divinity believed in by Zoroastrians, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Sikhs is surely more than a factor in astronomy and physics. Brahman-Atman of the Hindus can scarcely be comprehended as merely the uncaused cause. God as a "causer" of the universe does not figure seriously in the Hindu faith at all. Charles Hartshorne warns against "etiolatry," the obsession with cause as such.9 We may, then, wonder about the value or force of this initially appealing causal argument. Evidently, we must rethink the meaning of cause itself and perhaps introduce the idea that conditions and grounds exist for occurrences that are factors in change but not detectable simply as causes. The argument assumes that causation is linear—a sequence of causes going in different directions, no doubt, but traceable to a single initiation. But can we ever state with certainty the cause of any single event? No one, as Hume's analysis shows, can ever see, touch, or hear a cause, or watch it pass from one thing to another. Yet, "cause" may be nothing more than a useful word introduced for convenience to help us connect objects with one another. Aristotle was astute enough to distinguish

88

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

four kinds of causes—the material, formal, efficient, and final causes. That is too simplified in the light of modern scientific and philosophical understanding. Is cause external or internal? Is it transcendent or immanent or both? Can something that happened a long time ago cause something to happen now? Can something occurring now be causally related to something else that will happen ten centuries from now? Can cause ever be experienced even though it can't be apprehended by the senses? In their critique of theistic thought, philosophers representing the Jain religion have raised other questions about the causal argument for God. To say that God is the cause of the universe implies that the universe itself is a product. It may not be. We cannot say that God is the cause of all, because we see many objects such as houses and kettles that are not produced by God. Moreover, how could God work on material bodies if he is by definition bodiless? And one objection from a Buddhist perspective maintains that if God were the sole creative cause, everything would have to have been created at the same moment. If someone counters that God creates successively, "he is again not the sole cause of everything for then there are other causes too, which in their turn depend on still other ones."10 Such criticisms coming from religious believers themselves do have some force against a purely linear conception of causality and against a strictly supernaturalistic deism. But suppose we were to recast the idea of causality and think of it as immanent on the analogy of our own inner experience of volition? I do not literally see any causes when I write these lines but I am conscious that they would not be produced in this fashion were I not the active agent. We could, accordingly, list countless conditions necessary to produce, say, our signature, but the conscious act of writing is a direct experience of a kind of causality. My signature, to be genuine, must be written by me, and I can be aware of producing it. Are we pressing the analogy too far if we propose that God is the continual cause of the universe—the conscious agent that initiates, continues, guarantees, and perpetuates the world? It is not successive causation but continual production. Perhaps the divine being is immanent or present in the world, in that sense being its cause. The very presence of the world may then be explained as a continual product of divine activity or energizing. But then we must ask how a presumably immutable, unchanging God can be the omnipresent cause of all change. At this point, we apparently must modify and enlarge our concept of God or give up on the idea of causality. We may argue, as Hawking has, that the universe is self-contained. He professes reasonable confidence that we know the history of the universe up to one second before the Big Bang. Before that we must speculate. He says: "If there's an edge to the universe, there must be a God"; but he also claims that if we could explain everything in the universe on the hypothesis that no edge exists, we would have "a much more natural and economical theory."" We need to remind ourselves that more exists in the universe than physical energy, including values and pains, frustrations and purposes, artistic creations,

The Argument from Moral Standards and the Status of Values

89

governments, social forces, and human meanings and joys that cannot be simply reduced to energy patterns or mathematical formulae. The causal argument for God gives us pause and it stimulates us to look further. 4. The Argument from Moral Standards and the Status of Values Religious believers throughout the world have claimed for centuries that a connection exists between their behavior and what the Supreme Being requires. Even in religions long defunct, we find a belief that the deity placed moral requirements on devotees. Think of the code of Hammurabi and the fierce requirements for human sacrifice the Mayans thought their deity placed upon them. Among living religions, the Tao te Ching enjoins its readers "to be like the Tao," to live in accord with the ultimate world principle. Confucius asked his followers to heed the voice of Heaven in their undertakings. Parsees, Jews, Christians, Muslims, and Sikhs firmly believe that the ultimate source of the universe places moral requirements on its followers. The Ten Commandments of the Jew and Christian claim divine origin. The Koran places moral demands on Allah's followers, even as to the type of government. Moral commands as such, however, are not so prominently related to Brahman-Atman of the Hindus, nor to traditional Shinto deities. But those religions acknowledge the facts of guilt and the failure to live up to the highest. They provide occasions for purification before the deity. Nontheistic Jains and Buddhists vigorously insist that failure to live according to moral principles will result in undesirable karmic consequences. Accordingly, in spite of the Western cult of modernity (in Northern Europe and on the East Coast of the United States), religious believers claim that right and wrong behavior makes a real difference. Moreover, strongly theistic religions affirm moral standards sanctioned by God. We can believe in morals without believing in God; but hardly anyone who has believed in God for the last two thousand years has denied the existence of objective moral standards approved by the deity. The Antinomians, for example, thought that once we achieve salvation, no duties are laid upon us. The step from belief in God to the acceptance of moral standards is almost a commonplace. But does it work the other way? Does an examination of the moral life and its claims about moral standards lead us to the conclusion that a God who knows, favors, and supports those standards exists? Can an investigation of the moral life lead us to God? If we find support for the existence of objective standards of morality, may we then infer that those standards are unintelligible unless they are known by and grounded in a supreme intelligence? I have earlier suggested that the presence of comprehensible and reliable laws of physical nature seems to require a unified intelligence as their source. Does the presence of moral standards also make that requirement? If moral ideals exist independent of human beings, can those ideals be intelligible if they are not realized and understood in some sense by a divine personality "in whom supreme good is acknowledged and actualized"?12

90

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

Though suggestions of this argument can be found in Plato's thought, not until Kant was the moral argument for God emphasized. (Even now it is sometimes overlooked by critics who dote on Aquinas). In the third part of his Critique of Pure Reason, Kant brilliantly challenged the traditional arguments for God—the ontological, the cosmological, and the teleological. He found them logically defective and consequently ineffective in demonstrating the existence of a supreme personal consciousness. He later argued, however, in his Critique of Practical Reason, that though the existence of God was not logically demonstrable, it could be accepted as a necessary postulate of the moral life. An examination of the moral responsibility of duty led Kant to infer that human morality is meaningless unless we postulate a divine lawgiver. Though not logically deducible, he thought it reasonable to believe in the existence of a divine lawgiver. For us to comprehend the meaning of duty and responsibility, we need to postulate a supreme mind who guarantees a connection between virtue and happiness. Day-to-day morality means nothing if it has no grounding in the very structure of the universe, if no guarantee exists that virtue is intrinsically worthwhile. For Kant to urge that we should treat our duties as divine commands was, then, an easy step. Our best thought about responsibility may be understood as a requirement placed on us by a God who is the moral lawgiver—as one poet put it: "our highest thought of thy will." Rudolf Lotze, one of Kant's followers, went so far as to say: "I find the ground of that which is in that which ought to be." The presence of moral ideals implies the existence of a basis for those ideals in the mind of God. Other nineteenth- and twentieth-century thinkers have worked over this idea, lending the argument considerable support. Think, for example, of W. R. Sorley's Moral Values and the Idea of God or Hastings RashdalPs Theory of Good and Evil. This basic position that the presence of moral structures implies a supreme conscious mind as their source has bearing and relevance for a number of religions. The Indian tradition, however, argues that moral structures are best understood as an aspect of the law of karma. Karma is the overarching principle that operates independently from God in the Hindu tradition; it operates without any idea of God in the Jain community, and is surely not dependent on theistic belief in Buddhism. In defending the Buddhist view, Helmuth von Glasenapp maintains that the dynamic, all-embracing, infinitely adjustable law of karma and its inevitable corollary, rebirth, provides (and with greater dignity) that which in theistic faith calls for the personal attention of a creator God.13 Thus, we find two alternative religious explanations of moral claims and moral structures. Which is the better, more reasonable view? H. P. Owen puts it this way: "Either we take moral claims to be self-explanatory modes of impersonal existence, or we explain them in terms of a personal God."14 The first view asserts that value standards are best understood as issuing from a personal God, a mind that sustains, supports, and guarantees moral structures, a


91

mind that is holy, just, and righteous. The alternative asserts a self-operating law of karma built into the very structure of the universe as scientific laws are, and that while reality itself might be mind-like, we are not required to postulate such a mind as an explanation of the laws. The choice is not a simple one, for each position entails consequences. If karma is accepted, then the fundamental questions of transmigration or reincarnation arise. Even those Hindus such as Ramanuja, whose theism more closely resembles Western theism, will argue that the law of karma is selfoperating. It does not depend on God, for God is above such matters. Religions of the Near East are more apt to say that the moral law itself takes on meaning primarily because it comes from God. Those who think karma is independent of any divine being can also lean toward atheism. H. P. Owen argues that the moral life becomes unintelligible if we do not explain moral claims "in terms of a personal God."15 He then quotes the Oxford logician John Cook Wilson, who had argued that reverence for the moral law is "only possible because we think of the moral law as a manifestation of the nature of the Eternal Spirit."16 In the human realm, Owen observes, claims imply a claimant and laws a lawgiver, adding: "The same implications must be posited within the super-human order if we are to make morality consistent."17 He then observes that the very sense of guilt that religious people often feel when they have done wrong is linked to our implied belief that the violation of a moral law produces shame in us "due to the fact that we are in the presence of a holy lawgiver."'8 An earlier defender of this argument, Frederick R. Tennant, similarly said: "The world may be indifferent to our moral aspirations, but the world ground is not."19 We must admit that many of the experiences reported by religious believers, as well as some found in sacred writings, accord with this observation. Some may doubt Owen's further inference "that the belief in human dignity is theoretically indefensible unless it is derived from theistic premises."20 Note that a few religious thinkers do not find the moral argument congenial to their outlook because they take a different view of morality itself. Innovative theologians such as Soren Kierkegaard maintain that a gulf exists between human ethics and the divine purpose. Humanly derived moral laws are not evidence of a divine lawgiver. Human beings are frail and infected with sin. If any genuinely moral behavior can exist, it comes as fruit of the religious life—a product of salvation—after we have been freed from the bondage of our sinful original state. Later theologians holding to this general view have said that when people say "yes" to some action, God says "no." No warrant whatever exists to trust our normal finite claims; they have nothing to do with the demands placed upon us by the divine being. This remarkable outlook has its roots in phases of the Christian tradition, harking back to the time of Augustine, and leading up through Martin Luther and John Calvin. It gained much prominence during the pessimistic mood following World War I, finding its brilliant apologist in Karl Barth. We still

92

GOD AND ARG UMENTS

find this view in the Western world, but it is-not characteristic of religious experience and thought across the world. If anyone suggests an unbridgeable gulf between human standards and the moral ideal of the deity, they accentuate the idea that God's ways are beyond human understanding. No sincere believer would claim to know much about the mind of the divinity, but if no tie whatsoever exists between human goodness and divine loyalty, are we not caught in a hopeless skepticism? A deity so removed from human concerns and interests is shrouded in mystery; no one can even guess what God intends. The appeal is to mystery, unless we accept a special revelation that comes "perpendicularly from above"—a revelation with obvious different interpretations, untestable by human reason. Furthermore, to claim that moral knowledge comes only through revelation is to claim an exclusivistic view, a view that must subsequently hold that all other kinds of religious behavior are wrong-headed, if not evil. Such a view disparaging human reason has a ring of humility about it and thus some immediate appeal. But what is the value in a humility that promotes skepticism about moral principles? The appeal to mystery connotes humility, but is it more than a form of mediocre cowardice? Religious teachers for well over 2,500 years have repeatedly thought they had insight into what the supreme being of the universe valued. Are we to reject the moral insights of Moses, Isaiah, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed, Vivekananda, Albert Schweitzer, and others, because we have fallen into a swoon over the verbiage of a poetic theologian whose own biography is not far removed from neurotic manifestations? A. Criticisms of This Argument Both the theistic and the karmic explanations of moral claims are based on the view that no final absolute principles of morality may exist, but objective standards of right and wrong surely do. If we deny such standards, then the moral argument for God is cashiered at once. A relativistic and subjectivistic view of value denies any value structure or moral order, and hence also denies the need for an intelligence or karmic law to sustain it. When thoughtful religious persons argue for moral standards supported by God, they do not necessarily claim to know precisely what those standards are. Hindus strive to meet the demands of karmic law even though none can spell out the law in detail. Nor do believers ordinarily claim to have absolute knowledge of those standards, in spite of all the aberrant and fanatical behavior patterns we can trace historically. Can the status of moral standards be comparable to the status of scientific laws, logically speaking? Few would say that when we discover scientific laws those laws are mere projections of human desires imposed by human beings on the nature of things. No science exists without scientists, but only data. When scientists mold these data into laws, we trust their thinking. When scientists correct a theory, they do so because of a


93

better and clearer view. Does not the same apply to our grasp of moral principles? If our claims about science are claims about an independent order of reality, what of our claims about values and morality? Bertocci acutely observes: "The exponent of the moral argument holds that if his belief in the validity of values is a delusion, the belief in the validity of science is also a delusion since it rests on the conviction that truth is valuable."21 No scientist would lay claim to knowing with final certitude any law of nature, but any scientist would claim that the laws so far grasped were objectively sound because they were based on evidence. The same may be said of thoughtful religious believers. Opponents of the idea of standards seldom grant the distinction between absolute and objective principles. From the standpoint of empirical social science, the so-called standards of right and wrong, justice, integrity, fidelity, honesty, and the like, seemingly fluctuate from time to time and place to place. Hardly is a deed approved in one locale that is not shunned in another. Even in the same person's life, a deed frowned on today might have been seen as acceptable yesterday. Thus, socalled standards seem nothing more than indications of private or social preference—the expression of our desires or simply matters of practical convenience. No value standards exist, simply because none have been discovered, and that any will be is unlikely. Has any college sophomore not been beguiled by such observations? Many take the simple fact of disagreement as reason enough to deny that truth about moral experience can be found. But must we surrender to skepticism merely because of the fact of disagreement? Are those who deny principles content to admit that the horrors perpetrated by Adolf Hitler and Josef Stalin were not bad, but only disagreeable to us, merely the expression of their taste and preferences? Can a subjectivist genuinely request that he or she be treated fairly and justly when the terms "fair" and "just" have no intrinsic meaning? Sometimes those who deny standards reflect a mood of despair and not a careful position worked out with argument. I cannot allow this prominent point of view to pass without making a few comments. (1) First, we need to distinguish between broad moral standards and what we could call detailed rules. Some principles exist that do have widespread geographical approval, while admitting many local differences. Thus, hospitality toward strangers and particularly to those in trouble is a widespread principle. But the way we show hospitality in Tibet or in Mexico may differ in detail from the way of those dwelling in the Arctic circle or those in the South Seas. But the principle holds. Similarly, we find an almost universal insistence that parents must express love and delicate care to infants. Such principles may not be absolute but they are surely viewed as valid requirements, sound apart from private whims or group wishes. (2) Even among the scientists who might deny the presence of objective principles, we see a widespread requirement, independent of time or place or desire or prejudice, that the scientist is obliged to report facts honestly,

94

GOD AND.ARG UMENTS

cooperate with other scientists, and subject the findings to the community of scientists. No social science or psychological science can exist whatever without tacit allegiance to the objective principles of honesty and cooperation. Even the scientist who announces that no such standards exist is presumably worth listening to because he or she has adhered to standards that the findings say do not exist! The announcement of such findings implies an obligation on our part to accept them as true. Scientists and logicians who might deny value standards uniformly tell us that we ought to accept what is true and reject what is false. Even if we say no oughts exist, we surely imply that we ought to believe such a claim even if we might not want to. (3) This last point suggests something unique in the human experience of obligation or ought. We notice a genuine tension between the "1 want" and the "I ought." Characteristically, religious people distinguish between what they want to do and what they ought to do. Even the most unsophisticated person can be heard to remark that they ought not feel the way they do. They may have feelings of revenge but they are also aware that they ought not have such feelings. And many individuals in all faiths govern their daily lives by considering what they take to be their duties for the day—duty often being in conflict with their wishes. Ideally, religious people try to blend their desires and their duties, wanting to do the right, delighting in the laws of God (Ps. 11), or hungering or thirsting after righteousness. The presence of duty as a real and irreducible experience suggests that valuing means more than merely following our impulses, satisfying our desires, or doing what society seems to favor. We simply cannot reduce duties to desires, since we may notice differing degrees of desiring and wanting. Duty usually speaks with simple clarity. The "tug" of duty is found in any awakened conscience, religious or not. Can it be explained away or seen exclusively as a product of unconscious drives or physiological impulses? Some personality disorders, strange habits, or instances of compulsiveness may be traceable to a morbid sense of duty, but in normal human consciousness the fact of duty apparently points beyond itself to something other than an immediate wish or need. It suggests and even implies something outside of ourselves. These observations on the skeptical tendency or position that challenges moral standards do not yet show that such standards exist, so to that question we must now turn. If the moral argument for God is to have any strength or validity, grounds for acceptance of objective (not absolute) moral standards must be shown—standards that have at least the status of scientific laws. B. A Possible Basis for Holding to Objective Moral Standards Undoubtedly, if we can trust our thinking about science we can also trust our thinking about values. We can begin with some easily recognized general standards that grow out of scientific observation and practice.


95

Suppose we were to say that the matter of surgical cleanliness was merely a matter of taste or local tradition. Could a surgeon anywhere in the world justify removing an appendix or gall bladder without first sterilizing the instruments and following principled procedures? The dire consequences resulting from unsanitary conditions during surgery are not dependent on any private or social preferences or practices. The principles of cleanliness are obligatory on anyone performing surgery, even though a century and a half ago those principles may not have been understood or practiced. By extension, note too that analogous principles help to insure mental health. If they are not observed, especially in the rearing of infants, irreversible stunting takes place. No medicine or manipulation can repair the harm that follows when proper care and concern for infants is not afforded early in life. The same is obviously true regarding nutritional principles. We have only recently begun to understand the laws of nutrition and some understandable controversy over them still exists, but high amounts of cholesterol evidently do endanger life. Failure to provide proper advice and care to expectant mothers regarding smoking, drugs, and alcohol can also yield devastating results. Parental love shown to infants in the early months, no matter how it may be shown, is a principle built into human biology and psychology. No subjective wish or local social practice is more sacred than this inviolable law of love, the need to show affection to children in their early years. This need has nothing to do with culture, and we can find other structures in human experience indicating how human beings should live, whether they want to or not and whether or not these principles are socially accepted.. If human life is to proceed, definite principles of care and child-rearing must be followed whether people want to follow them or not. These are not assumptions; they are findings. Of course, local variants will emerge from culture to culture concerning how we hold, feed, or dress infants, but if the equivalent of parental love is not in some way manifest, suffering eventually ensues. We do not merely agree on that principle; we discover it. We can extrapolate further in an empirical way and notice that fully selfcentered lives tend to wither away, while lives characterized by essentially selfless concern for others—lives that are outgoing in some sense—more readily thrive. All the great religious teachers have taught this, and countless religious devotees as well as stalwart heroes of the human race have claimed it for twenty-five hundred years. Has some recent statistical survey shown them to have been deluded? Has some well-paid, comfortable social scientist shown that selfish aggrandizement and greed are obviously to be preferred to self-giving kindness and humility? These are not simply matters of wishing or wanting. Accordingly, from laws of health and the ideal of surgical cleanliness, we advance to laws relevant and needed to promote wholesome childhood growth. Little effort is required to infer that proper standards exist for human relations as well. No one claims to have final knowledge on dental or mental hygiene or

96

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

on exactly how we are to live with our neighbors, or even "enemies," but we find more and more indications of such value structures in the universe. Plato argued that those structures exhibited a dependability and went so far as to affirm that those who did not earnestly seek to live up to the highest they knew were parasites living off the benefits of the noble. To infer that these standards or value structures are basal to the universe and tell us something about its essential nature is not a difficult logical step. That is the reasoning of those who conclude that the presence of moral standards points to a supreme consciousness who establishes and maintains those structures. Those holding to karma instead of to a supreme mind would accept the argument, but they do have a difficulty. How can an impersonal law such as karma make all the subtle distinctions in type, kind, and detail that are at least conceivable for a supreme mind? At least five religions claim that God knows what human intentions are and may judge persons on the basis of their motivation even if their deeds may not yield successful consequences. We easily grasp how an all-encompassing general law of karma can make those distinctions that our experience tells us can clearly be made by a mind. To counter such observations, note how much downright evil and immorality exists in the world, and how it often seems to succeed. The prophets have been scorned and stoned; the powerful, the greedy, the privileged, and even the criminal in high places seem to succeed. If a moral sponsor of the moral laws exists, as the argument holds, how do the apparently wicked flourish and the good die young and suffer? Nero, Genghis Khan, Hitler, and Stalin lived longer and did more actual harm to the world than the good done by even famed religious leaders such as Jesus, Buddha, Mohammed, or Gandhi. Where, then, are these so-called standards, and how can we say they are regularly supported by the universe, as Plato claimed? In his "A Free Man's Worship," Bertrand Russell tells us that he rejects ordinary religious belief in a supreme benevolent intelligence on the grounds of the combined indifference and cruelty in the universe. At the same time, Russell disavows any knowledge of value standards. "But if cruelty and indifference cannot be known to be disvalues," E. S. Brightman acutely observed, "Russell's argument collapses." The conclusion is that I must admit that the moral argument for God does not finally demonstrate that such a being exists, but I must remind myself that I am not in the business of offering perfect proofs. Instead, I am concerned with giving a reasonable account of the claims and experiences of religious believers. If we admit value structures, how can we account for their reliability and persistence without postulating an intelligence as their source and sponsor? To say that they speak to our intelligence and yet are not themselves the manifestations of intelligence is to explain the known by the unknown, to make more of a puzzle than is necessary. We could hold that moral structures imply at least an undergirding for the law of karma, as all the Indian religions require. But the issue then turns on whether the law of karma is a more adequate way to

The Argument from the Knowability of the World of Nature

97

account for the presence of human moral standards than is the idea of a divine lawgiver. 5. The Argument from the Knowability of the World of Nature Einstein once remarked that the "mystery of the universe is its comprehensibility." to think that we can come to know things that are true and meaningful about our world is a wonder. Heraclitus said: "Nature loves to hide!" It gives up its secrets slowly, but to those who persist, its secrets, its meanings, and its laws can be discovered and can be understood. Some theists have argued that the fact that we can know something about the world of nature—can unlock some of its manifold secrets—implies that the world of nature itself is the expression to us of a superior intelligence. How can we account for the presence of intelligible laws without postulating an intelligence as their sponsor and source? How can we discover meaning in the universe as we observe and study it, if that meaning had not been there in the first place—indeed, if the meaning had not been put into it? As Bowne one time put it, mind exists at both ends. The mind of the scientist discovers laws; the mind of God administers those laws. The human mind reads off the meanings the divine mind continually places into the natural order, so we may ask: If nature is not informed with a reason other than its own, how is our reason able to discover its laws? This argument seems to presuppose an immanentalist view of God, namely, that he is present in the natural order. But even a strict deistic supernaturalist might be willing to say that our ability to know nature implies not only that nature is knowable but that an intelligence exists who makes it knowable. Natural scientists such as Isaac Newton claimed to be thinking God's thoughts after him when studying the book of nature. Berkeley saw the natural order as an expression of God, taking the wonders and regularities of nature as "manifest tokens of divinity." But why should we infer an intelligence in nature just because we can understand nature? The world of nature may simply be treated as a given fact. Does its intelligibility, its comprehensibility, require us to say that nature is the manifestation of one supreme intelligence? Some might suggest that accounting for the comprehensibility of nature is unnecessary. But then they slip in an evolutionary naturalism or a scientific realism as their explanation, which are themselves metaphysical accounts that they are usually unwilling to debate or challenge. They go on to assert that any effort to explain that natural order outside of science is monstrous, as if a so-called scientific account of science is as self-evident as are the data of science. The point does not concern the possibility of accounting for nature's intelligibility, but evaluating which account is rationally better. Bertocci points out that for the naturalist the laws of nature are "nothing but a constant surprise."22

98

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

Suppose I am walking in the woods and spot a large tree with some markings in its bark. Tree markings may be a curiosity of the tree itself or they may be the result of gnawings, perhaps by a deer, or possibly the claw marks of a bear. I move closer to the tree and notice that those marks are carvings that resemble letters of the alphabet. A still closer inspection yields the words: "Daniel Boone killed a bear here." This is an intelligible sentence, and my immediate inference is that the marks were put there by an intelligence like my own, despite the theoretical possibility that they were produced by some animal action. I may walk away, or I may investigate further, and perhaps shortly find a whitened skull that I recognize as a bear's. A bullet may even be present. If I later check with local historians and find that Daniel Boone was indeed in the vicinity years ago, I may conclude that not only were the markings on the tree carved there by Boone, but that they do tell something about an actual event. The markings point to something beyond their immediate meaning. We easily infer, similarly, that graffiti in a subway are the product of playful human beings, not chimpanzees with spray cans. When I happen to notice nearby a sign that reads: "Danger. Third Rail Alive, 600 volts," I could regard it as additional scribbling; but I would obviously take it as a warning that my life would be in danger if 1 stepped on that third rail. The words convey intelligent meaning. I infer an intelligent source, but I also take the words to be telling me something about the way things really are, and I rely on their truth. The same is true for scientific findings. We notice regularity and intelligibility in the natural order, and we can then formulate laws about the data, which we think not only describe the way things are but also enable us to make reliable predictions. We then come to trust the intelligible findings as pointing to something more than themselves, as providing us with sternly trustworthy laws. Richard Taylor, who makes use of this argument, points out that we may marvel at the intricacy of the human eye and learn the laws about its nature. But we also come to rely upon our eyes when they gather evidence. He observes that we do not simply view the eyes and other organs of sense "as amazing and striking things, and speculate upon their origins. We, in fact, whether justifiably or not, rely on them for the discovery of things that we suppose to exist quite independently of those organs themselves."23 If we do assume that they are guides to truths having nothing to do with themselves, then only with difficulty can we consistently believe them to have arisen by accident or by ordinary workings of purposeless forces even over ages of time. To recognize that the laws of nature are trustworthy as well as intelligible is not a difficult step. We come to rely on such laws. Our practical lives depend for their continued well-being upon our belief that the laws of health, for example, can be trusted. The very reliance we place on the world requires us to say it is more than utter and complete contingency. The religious believer (in several faiths) easily concludes that the trustworthiness of the intelligible laws of nature evinces God's faithfulness to human beings and, indeed, his

The Argument from the Knowability of the World of Nature

99

providence. This is the report of thoughtful piety. The poet Paul Claudel put it this way: The creator is ever present within his creation and it is through it that he speaks and tells us everything, not only the order and beauty of the universe in number, weight and measure . . . but the whole humble catechism of nature. All things arrive punctually for our instruction and welfare, our ordeal or punishment.24 And in commenting on Berkeley's philosophy, T. E. Jessop observed: Here is an hourly manifest providence, with God immediately behind it. Philosophically, the inference to God is not a trudge along a line of innumerable causes and effects, but simply a step or two. Religiously, we have no need to make the arduous ascent of the mystic; we have only to open our eyes . . . to be confronted with the first-hand effects of divine power, wisdom and benevolence . . . [Thus] God is for everybody not the rarefied entity discovered or invented by the intellectual elite.25 But this line of argument is subject to objections. First is the religious objection that the ways of God are past finding out, that God is clothed in mystery and the world of nature is incidental and unimportant to the supreme being. A thoughtful Hindu could not say that nature is a manifestation of God, who is its immediate cause. Instead, our cosmic ignorance makes nature real. While we may give such a metaphysical account of the natural world, as the maya of Brahman-Atman, whether real or unreal, it is remarkably comprehensible and we can use it in daily religious acts. While those in the Hebrew, Christian, Islamic, and Sikh traditions may concede that the ways of God are beyond us, the Psalmist writes: "Day unto day uttereth speech and night unto night showeth knowledge" (Ps. 19:1). Piety may suggest that we cannot really know what the supreme mind is in itself, but any idea of Providence implies that God's intentions are somehow realized in the world of nature. Secondly, if we say nature manifests God and his reliability, what sort of a God would inflict such pain and suffering as he apparently does in the wild ravages of nature as well as in the horror of deadly disease? If we insist that nature is somehow God speaking to use, then what is he saying in an earthquake and a tidal wave, and how is his presumed providential care manifest in deformed babies, or in sufferers of multiple sclerosis, AIDS, and other debilitating diseases? Though I will consider this problem at length in Chapter Six, note here that religious believers do overlook the negative evidence, holding that anything that God does must be good, by definition, because he does it. Or they claim that no negative evidence exists in nature that

100

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

would indicate the nonexistence of God. No matter, what the evidence, it always points to God. We can thus quickly see that this fits the problem of unfalsifi ability. No evidence could count against the existence of God. Hence, the idea of God itself is both unverifiable and unfalsifiable. More will be said on this later, since it is an aspect of the notorious problem of evil. We could also say that the world is neither lawful and orderly nor reliable, but absurd and at base irrational. This criticism reflects a mood of despair found in thinkers such as Arthur Schopenhauer, Friedrich'Nietzsche, and some contemporaries. If nature is irrational, then something is making it be that way. Moods are not arguments and, while scientists may be inveigled by governments to do terrible things with their science, the order of the universe is not affected by our moods. Others may object to inference to another mind as the source of intelligibility, arguing against such an analogy because'perhaps no mind exists even in human beings—mind being only a ghost in a machine. Several alternate theories exist, including one that says no minds exist at all, but only observable behavior patterns. Through experience and practice, we slowly learn to distinguish a human person from a marionette or a ventriloquist's dummy. Others urge that other minds are known by analogy from our own mental experience, or at least through communication. When we analyze the technical act of knowing, we see that what happens is that we pick up patterns of sensations and learn to distinguish those patterns that suggest the presence of a mind from those that do not. Then we can show how our knowledge of another mind is rationally inferred. Yet, we are scarcely aware of the inferential process in daily experience. We do go through a kind of conscious inferential process when we gather that the sounds of a foreign language coming from someone else might be Polish, Finnish, Chinese, or Spanish. We may not understand a single word. The sounds come to our ears, we sort them out, and we think we are right in claiming what the language might be. No one consciously goes through that process in saying he or she knows another mind, but if we were to analyze the thought process that occurs in a split second, it may well be something of this type. We are talking about the logic of knowing, not the psychology of knowing, and so we easily confuse the issue. Our own awareness of ourselves does not self-evidently allow us to infer similar limits of awareness in others. Is our knowledge of God achieved by the same means? We see words carved on the trunk of a tree and infer an intelligent source. We see rivers and mountains and the intricacies of nature and we notice intelligibility. We infer a mind as their source. Berkeley, with a touch of irony, once said that the evidence for mind in nature is greater than the evidence for mind in human beings.

Abstract Arguments

101

6. Abstract Arguments Scarcely a study of the philosophy of religion fails to present what are sometimes called "classical" arguments for the existence of God. For about eight hundred years, technical philosophers have developed arguments for God based on the meaning of perfection, the idea of a necessary being, the grades of being, and the necessity of a final cause. These arguments are uniquely found among philosophers and theologians. They are barely understood by ordinary religious believers, for they turn on the meaning of words, logical concepts, and deductive reasoning. By definition, what we call "abstract" arguments are arguments that do not draw upon human experience or on empirical evidence in the world of nature or the universe. By far the most famous of these are the five "ways" found in the thought of Aquinas. But before Aquinas, Saint Anselm of Canterbury invented an argument that has attracted even the attention of philosophers. It has been variously accepted and challenged, restructured, and refuted even up to the present time. Books have been written about it alone. It is reinstated regularly and refuted just as often. Known as the ontological argument, it has many formulations, but the gist of it suggests that the very fact that we can formulate the idea of a perfect being implies that such a being exists. Anyone interested may begin with Anselms's statement, read a refutation by Gaunilo, notice Aquinas's derogatory remarks about it, observe how it is redeveloped in Rene Descartes and challenged by Pierre Gassendi, redeveloped by Spinoza and G. W. Leibniz, and then apparently laid to rest by Kant in the third part of the Critique of Pure Reason. The argument was shunned by Berkeley and Hume, had a revival of sorts in G. W. F. Hegel, and was restructured and came to a new blossom in the twentieth century with William Hocking, who thought of it as vital in a negative way. In the last few decades, it has been reinstated vigorously by the contemporary thinker Charles Hartshorne, who has shown thirteen different formulations of it. Norman Malcolm has also supported it, and the literature surrounding this argument is way out of proportion to its significance, because the kind of God it argues for is a perfect being but not the kind of God that has much to do with actual human religious claims. No one goes to the temple, shrine, synagogue, or church to pray to a being than which nothing greater can be conceived, or whose essence is perfection. Surely, the very thought of a perfect being tells us at once that such a being exists, since no perfect being would lack the attribute of existence. But, critics ask, is existence really an attribute of anything? The mere thought of something perfect does not necessarily entail the existence of that object. And so the argument is joined. Equally abstract is the argument that notices motion in the world and concludes that a prime mover must exist. Since various causes exist, so must an ultimate cause. Another may say that the contingency of the world requires the existence of a necessary being. Natural objects are possible, not necessary. That

102

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

this or that object exists is not necessary, but something must exist that is not merely possible but real, something that makes things possible but is itself their basis and hence necessary. Again, things around us form a graduated scale, moving from good to better, we might say. But then something must exist that is truly excellent, the apex of goodness, a perfect being—a perfect being who is also the cause of all perfect things in the universe. The last of Aquinas's "ways" maintains that everything in nature realizes some goal or purpose. This implies an intelligence to guide it. So, a purposeful universe must imply a purposing being, or God. Those who are attacked by such abstract, deductive arguments can find plenty of literature in texts and articles discussing and rediscussing them. Many who would regard themselves as atheists have come to their position perhaps because they have analyzed these arguments and found .them wanting. If we reject an Aristotelian view of cause or challenge the meaning of contingency, and so on, we can readily set aside these thirteenth-century arguments. But the sad thing is that critics stop there and do not entertain the prospect of any new or additional arguments since the thirteenth century, or they construe them merely as forms of same argument. The result is a sterility and a great deal of logic chopping that has little to do with actual religious claims of religious believers. 7. Grounds for Denying the Existence of God Those who oppose belief in a supreme being are not as great in number as those who support it, and we must recognize different levels of criticism just as we do differing concepts of God. Some popular atheists almost make a profession of their atheistic claims, expressing themselves on platforms, in popular magazines, and on television. But some people schooled in the history of thought also offer direct arguments, appealing to both evidence and logic to support their positions. We need to be aware of these levels, and I shall examine both levels and types of arguments, in addition to those already referred to in the discussion of arguments for God. (1) The journalistic or popular type of atheism is somewhat like the traditional village atheist but today has more widespread effect and influence because the media usually report their work. In recent times, atheism had a strong supporter in the person of Robert Ingersoll. His oratory was impressive and his arguments were directed toward particular religious views, sometimes attacking positions that philosophers of religion had given up, if they ever held them. The impact of Charles Darwin on religious belief in the last four decades of the nineteenth century was a big factor in the growth of popular atheism. Some recognized no need for a creator God because the species had evolved in the natural course of events, a sifting process from the beginning of the universe that eventuated in human beings. No need existed for an external deity

Grounds for Denying the Existence of God

103

who created the heavens and the earth and all creatures great and small. Evolution, it was claimed, supplanted the deity, and was a sufficient explanation of our world. As the doctrine of evolution began to take hold, it was seen to be applicable not only to biology but to all the universe. Evidence of development is found in astronomy, geology, and paleontology. Herbert Spencer, perhaps a bit overzealous, became the philosophical spokesperson for this view, and his implicit atheism had a notable influence on popular culture. But the line of argument implying that a divine being is not needed because evolution is a sufficient casual explanation has not continued to appeal to scientists. Those we may call journalistic atheists or popular atheists are usually not well enough informed even to employ the position of the evolutionist. The evidence is that some of them are just rebelling against parental beliefs or childhood patterns, announcing that the ideas of God they used to hold are downright false. This type of atheism may best be handled by the psychologist, because it seldom offers clear reasons, being largely a reaction. Its value is that it points out that some of the ideas of God cherished in the past are false and unworthy of a supreme being. But we may not infer that no God exists just because the picture of a God as an Oriental despot whose nature is wrathful and without mercy or justice is to be rejected. Indeed, the idea of God has also evolved, and the God that popular atheism opposes is also widely opposed by philosophers of religion. (2) We come now to the view that the idea of God is impractical and even hurtful. A recent Buddhist thinker has written: "This god-idea stifles the human liberty to investigate, to analyze, to scrutinize, to see what is beyond the naked eye, and retards insight."26 Others suggest that the idea of God may become an excuse for inactivity. We may come to accept illness, deformity, and death as sent by God and might not try to overcome them. Mothers with sick babies in Cairo may not visit a physician because they think the illness is what Allah intends for their child. During the Middle Ages, the Arabian scholars studied medicine and tried to improve health, while Christians viewed illness and plagues as sent by God, implying that we were not to try to change things. That mood still exists in some religious practices throughout the world. Belief in God may stifle efforts to change things if we hold that God sends everything. Another Buddhist writer, K. N. Jayatilleke, criticized one of his fellow Buddhists for holding a theistic view, because it gave a false sense of security to people and encouraged complacency by denying free will and the value of human effort, while ensuring eventual salvation.27 At the same time, this critic claims that his criticisms do not apply to a theism that stresses the importance of human freedom and encourages the cultivation of spiritual values. Buddhists, then, do not discourage belief in a personal God on pragmatic grounds, "in so far as it is not a hindrance but an incentive for moral and spiritual development."

104

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

(3) Others have held that the idea of God is, now outdated. It may have been relevant and useful in an earlier time, but in this modern age we must reject a supernatural being. Other modes of explanation suffice. Jacob Taubes points out that the astronomical views held by the Roman Catholics in medieval times were essentially Ptolemaic, namely, that the earth is the center of the universe and God's heaven is above it. He then extends his view: It is a fundamental but seldom recognized fact that since the Copernican revolution theistic religion stands without a cosmology and is therefore forced to retreat into the domain of man's inwardness.29 Another sense in which the idea of God is not needed any longer may be noted. With the advances in science and the burgeoning of technology, some of the mysteries and hazards of the world have been removed, with the consequence that the idea of God as a protector and healer seems to some to be outmoded and no longer needed. To put it directly, when sailing ships brought people across the oceans, the perils were great and a safe journey could be regarded as an instance of divine Providence. Religious people prayed for divine protection during the voyages and regarded their arrival in port as a reason for thanksgiving to God. In today's world, while accidents still occur as a consequence of bad weather and so on, overseas travel is scarcely any risk. If a storm appears, ships that have anticipated its coming will have made preparations, and airplanes can surmount the storm and proceed safely. Technology, we may say, has done away with the need for a providential God to help us on dangerous journeys because so few such journeys occur. Alleged cases of miraculous safe arrivals or being "snatched from the jaws of death" were possible, some believed, because God intervened. Scientific technology has solved most of the problems that used to be an honest concern of piety and the end is not yet in sight. This is also obviously the case in medical science. Illness that usually meant death as late as the 1950s can now be healed through medicine. In the past, a child's recovery from meningitis was often regarded as a singular instance of God's assistance. Although it is still a dread disease, the chances for recovery are now greater than the chances of death. A God who is a refuge in time of trouble and saves people from death is no longer needed now that science has unlocked so many secrets. Note that a religious response to the above observations would suggest that the very discoveries of science and the achievements in technology are themselves instances of people having found out the secrets of the universe, which God continually and faithfully undergirds. Thus, instead of saying that science has done away with the need for God, piety would suggest that we be grateful to God for the progress of science itself. Science does not demonstrate that the idea of God is nugatory.


105

(4) Another popular and understandable objection to belief in God is the attitude that God is totally unimaginable. We have no way of relating the idea of such a being to our ordinary experience. How can a being exist who is omnipresent (everywhere at once), who is omniscient (who knows the innermost thoughts of the five billion inhabitants of the world as well as those who are presumably immortal), who is omniloving (who cares for and is concerned about the welfare of each individual), and who in addition is both eternal and temporal as well as being all powerful? In spite of differences in the ideas of God claimed by religious people, how can any of these be grasped by human imagination? In several religions, the active imagination is served by introducing lesser deities who may be pictured or represented in images. Popular Hinduism is rife with these, and shrines abound to the consorts of the deity or to his various incarnations (avatars). Western religions satisfy the needs of the imagination by picturing angels, who are God's "messengers," or by recalling former religious heroes such as Francis, who have become saints and to whom we can pray. Even in practicing religion, to pray to a picturable saint or incarnation of the deity and to elevate former human beings into semi-divine or divine beings is easier than to worship pure beings who can hardly be imagined or thought of. Accordingly, millions of practicing Christians find it easier to have some visualization of God in Jesus Christ, to whom they can pray, instead of to some apparently abstract metaphysical agency than which no being is greater. But unimaginability is scarcely an argument against the existence of a supreme intelligence who undergirds creativity and value. Many people cannot imagine how a chemical can cause mental disorders, for example. (5) Another level or type of criticism is found among psychologists and social scientists. They do not discuss the claims about the metaphysical nature of God or argue against proposed theories of explaining the universe by belief in God. Instead, they see that the very business of proposing a deity in the first place must be challenged. They then ask, what in the human psyche, society, or the genetic structure of human beings triggers the idea that a supreme being exists to whom we owe our existence and who allegedly created or creates nature. These critics do not discuss the philosophical issue, the objective claims made about such a being; they ponder the subjective motives and sources of this belief. Thus, a psychologist might suggest that the idea of God has its roots in the unconscious and is a project of infantile needs for a father to whom they can turn to satisfy their many wants. They may claim that the arguments offered by theologians and philosophers are merely rationalizations of unconscious needs, prejudices, or internal psychic difficulties. Accordingly, theists of any type represent a form of immaturity. When human persons are fully awakened to human nature and properly understand the human place in the world, they will come to see that the very idea of God as well as of religion is a mark of immaturity—understandable, to be sure, but something we should and

106

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

eventually will grow out of when we reach mature mental health. Thus, Freudian psychoanalysis teaches that our earliest impressions received at a time when we were hardly able to talk manifest themselves later in an obsessive fashion, although those impressions themselves are not consciously remembered. We feel that the same must hold good for the earliest experiences of humankind. One result of these experiences is the emergence of the conception of one great God. It must be recognized as a memory—a distorted one, but nevertheless a memory. It has an obsessive quality; it simply must be believed.30 It is a distortion and a delusion. The founder of the science of sociology, Auguste Comte, foreshadowed the Freudian view obliquely when he noted a law of three stages, which helped account for various belief systems. In the earliest stage, human beings hold to theological beliefs quite normally until they advance to philosophy. Then they realize that philosophy too needs to be supplanted by science. Thus, when human beings approach a scientific understanding of things they become properly mature. Some critical questions are required here. The first has to do with the recognition that Freudian psychology is more prevalent in Europe and the United States than in England or the former Soviet Union. The current form of behaviorist psychology voiced by B. F. Skinner and his associates would reject a Freudian analysis and accept a scientific materialism, as would many former Soviet psychologists, announcing that the idea of God is simply not true either philosophically or scientifically. It is not a vestige of infantile maturity. But if we were to grant the Freudian or Comtean indictment of believers in God as persons who are immature in some sense, we may profitably ponder for a moment who are some of the mature people of human history. Many of the leading characters of human history, including some of the most creative scientists and imaginative artists and musicians, have been firm believers in a deity. Are we to say, as we surely must that Johann Sebastian Bach was immature, that Albert Schweitzer, Leo Tolstoy, Mahatma Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Mother Teresa are immature in their beliefs? Who then, we may ask, is mature? The wealthy, self-centered pleasure seeker who has the time and money to undergo extensive visits to the psychoanalyst in a quest to throw off infantilism to become mature? Mohammed and Jesus believed in God. May we see them too as somehow infantile? To announce that the idea of God springs from deep-lying psychological origins is interesting and clever, but the origin of an idea does not tell us whether an objective mind is running the universe. I do not wish to be argumentative, but when views are advanced that offer a blanket of criticism of theistic beliefs without showing how those beliefs are themselves illogical, what else may we do but test such a view on its own terms? Similarly, if we were to say, with Feuerbach, that the idea of God is little more than the self-projection of a societal idea or ideal, we would find here an unusual, possibly willful ignorance of the history of religions. In several


107

religions, the leading spokespersons have challenged the ideas of their society, attacked its mores, and pointed it to a higher plane. This is the case with the eighth-century prophets of Israel, with Jesus, and with Mohammed. John Hick has cogently observed: "The prophet cannot have the support of God against society if God is simply society in disguise."31 A commonplace of Marxian theory has been to maintain that belief in God is something foisted on the weak and the poor by the privileged sectors of society in order to keep them in their place. Religious belief, then, serves as a kind of drug on people. If they believe in God, they will not be alert as to their status in society or to how they are being exploited economically. Now, like other nonphilosophical challenges to belief in God, this approach has some empirical basis. The idea of God and promises of a later happy status in Heaven have been used as a club to beat down and oppress people, especially slaves. Those in economic power have developed elaborate rationalizations for maintaining their power, and religion serves them as a useful tool to keep the ordinary people content. In South Africa, until a few years ago, the system of Apartheid, we were sometimes told, had support in the Bible; and in India up until 1947, position in both social and economic life was held to be a matter of inherited caste, something decreed by the gods and supported in the Scriptures. But I must add that the same God that seems to some to justify keeping people "in their place" also motivates critics of unjust socioeconomic systems. The real opponents of Apartheid and racial oppression were not a coterie of mature atheists but those motivated by a vigorous belief in God. The same has been true of racial conflicts in the United States, both on the violent and nonviolent sides, namely, Martin Luther King, Jr., and Malcolm X. The causal motivation to overthrow oppression and even change the economic order itself comes from belief in God. Marxists have been unable to recognize this simple historic fact; they regularly and doctrinally deny it, probably because it does not fit their metaphysical scheme. Natural scientists—especially physicists, chemists, geologists, and astronomers—are less likely to offer arguments against the existence of God than are those working in the so-called human sciences. Natural scientists deal more directly with the objective natural world and do not probe the inner subjective states of human behavioral responses in the individual or society. In this way, they are closer to philosophers of religion, who also seek to wrestle with broader objective data and arguments. Instead of maintaining that the idea of God has been disproved or invalidated by the natural scientists, thinkers in that area would say it is not a topic they are equipped, as scientists, to discuss. Should natural scientists argue that natural science disproves any idea of God, they must be taken to task for the philosophical or metaphysical positions they have presupposed. The question then becomes strictly a philosophical matter. What is usually involved in a case of science versus God is simply a theory of explanation, i maintain that fundamental explanation is found in

108

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

philosophical reason taken in the broad sense of empirical coherence. I do not take the view that fundamental explanation must be found exclusively by the scientific method, as if but one mode of explanation exists. If philosophy itself can be explained scientifically, the logical issue can be joined. Thus, if we say that the only mode of explanation is scientific, then not only the idea of God, but most of the other topics in this book wait only for scientific findings to be solved. But this position is impossible. It requires endless suspension of judgment about those matters of grave importance to people, waiting until "all the evidence is in," which is never. It also overlooks the recognition that scientific laws themselves are tentative and subject to change. Philosophical conclusions are likewise tentative but without the dogged insistence that we may not make up our mind. Philosophers are prepared to go along with reasonable probability in larger matters, even as scientists practically do in smaller ones, such as medical diagnoses. Nor does the view that science is the fundamental form of explanation recognize that scientific methods themselves are a special kind of reason that grew out of philosophical inquiry in the first place But more important, scientific method and its logic are regularly judged by philosophical reason itself. And philosophy indicates the proper limits and scope of scientific reason. Science as science cannot do that itself. The scientist cannot even provide a scientific basis for the pursuit of science itself, except if it should say that science is warranted by technical progress. But even technical progress is a questionable concept. We may have "faith" in science and put our trust in it because it "works" or "benefits humankind." But these are not decent criteria, especially when we think of all the so-called neutral scientists working in Hitler's Germany or Franklin D. Roosevelt's United States producing killing machines and devices or planning the Manhattan Project, which resulted in the atomic bomb. To think that scientists work solely for the benefit of humankind is so naive as to be beneath contempt. 8. Opponents of Theism from Within Religion I have noted that at least one living religion strongly opposes the idea of a supreme being and offers arguments against the divine existence. I refer to the Jains and have noted their arguments earlier in my positive discussion. Many Buddhists, but not all, are likewise strongly anti-theistic. Buddhists in the West (such as Alan Watts and von Glasenapp) tend to be more atheistic than Buddhists in Sri Lanka or Japan. Without rehearsing either observation, I must note that those religions have strong doctrines of karma. Without karma both Jainism and Buddhism would become meaningless. Accordingly, if belief in God is seen as unlikely or unwarranted, belief in karma is a fortiori also to be rejected.

Opponents of Theism from Within Religion

109

The Jain and the Buddhist atheists who accept karma are affirming one thing that theists also affirm, namely, that the universe as such is somehow on the side of the good. Those who lead ignoble lives are subject to the impersonal law of karma and will reap what they have sown. Theists take a similar view. What the atheist by definition must say is that nothing good in itself exists. All things called good are called good not because they are good as such but because they lead to something that is,.desired or approved by someone at some time. Something becomes good because I want it; nothing is good by itself. Accordingly, no grounding of good or value exists in the universe whatsoever. Whatever is good is happenstance. Seize it while you can, for it may shortly disappear. The universe without God or without even karma is neutral and indifferent to value—value having no meaning in itself unless we decide so subjectively. We project value on the universe. The sunset is not beautiful in itself; we happen to like it and we attribute beauty to it. So the atheist has to say that anything good or valuable, from a sunset to a kind deed, is a personal projection onto a valueless, undirected universe. Occasionally, a theoretical atheist loves his or her children. A few might sacrifice themselves or give up something for another person, even for their country. But they have no reason or basis for doing so, except as it has an "agreeable leadingness" or because of animal pity or compassion of a Schopenhauerian kind. (But even Schopenhauer had the idea of a moral order, a metaphysical view.) Or to put it another way, atheists must follow out the logic of their position just as theists must. The evidence suggesting that things in nature and history operate by chance—that the good is illusory, that no such thing as sound morality exists, that life has no purpose whatever save to find pleasure where we can, that no genuine kindness exists except as an excrescence of selfishness—all these things indicate no value source in the universe, no God at all. By the same token, if positive evidence of value exists, atheists may have to revise their thinking. (Note the sociobiologist who sees that morality is nothing but a way of evolutionary survival. No exceptions can be allowed to the dogma once that view is accepted. Sociobiology is unclassifiable just as is Skinnerian behaviorism!) The facts are such as to lead us sometimes to doubt the God of religious believers. That takes us into the next chapter, which ponders the evidence of nonpurposeful facts, of evil and suffering. We may say that the presence of suffering and evil of all kinds turns out to be, on first appearance anyway, the most powerful of the arguments against the existence of God. But a number of apparently more serious arguments against the existence of God in general must be considered. One of them, voiced by so eminent a thinker as Russell, scarcely needs to be mentioned because it is so weak. It rather sarcastically asks, if God caused everything, what caused God? That this is not even a genuine philosophical question is missed by some. God may not exist as the source of all things, but

110

GOD AND ARGUMENTS

to ask for the source of the source is to ask a meaningless question. To do so is like asking what was the beginning of the beginning. Yet this sort of question continues to be voiced. Whatever is the cause of all, by the very meaning of the words, cannot have a cause. The issue then becomes the nature of the source and whether such a source exists. Some astronomers think of things as always having existed, hence no creative agency is even considered; but even if they always existed, within that existence creative evolutionary changes need to be accounted for in some way. A more searching kind of criticism of divine beings is found in the thought of the Greek atomist philosopher Epicurus, whose puzzles were put into vivid form by his later disciple Lucretius. In Book Two of his De Rerum Natura, Lucretius wonders why any gods would have bothered to make the world at all. Why should perfect, self-sufficient beings who need nothing burden themselves with creating a world, and why should they take the arduous task of governing it? Probing the motive of creation further, he asks why they would have created it in time. If it was created in time, was the creation a condition of divine happiness? But to say that implies that perfect beings were unhappy for an eternity. What would be the purpose of creating it? Could it have been for the sake of human beings? If they made it for the sake of the few wise people who exist, the work was not worth the trouble. And if they did it in order to make wicked persons, they are cruel. No reason can be given for the world being a creation of gods. Nor can we assume that a world full of evils, such as ours, is the creation of a deity. In any case, atoms moving in empty space and mechanical causation are sufficient to account for our world. The idea of a deity or deities is unnecessary, even though people agree that gods exist. Such pungent queries give us pause, but note that the philosopher is usually concerned not with why a world exists but instead with giving a reasonable explanation of the evidence we have before us. We usually are illequipped to answer questions such as why vinegar is bitter or why sugar is sweet. We find the facts as given or presented to us and then try to understand them. Not even theologians are generally willing to ponder why a world exists. The world is here, but how are we to understand it?

Six VALUE, EVIL, AND SUFFERING Religious believers must inevitably consider the problems associated with suffering of all sorts. No matter how good or purposeful they think the universe is, all are confronted sometime with the presence of downright unhappiness, misfortune, different types of suffering, and undesirable and unwanted experiences that we traditionally call evil. Followers of every religion, either sophisticated or preliterate, make claims about what they regard as evil or, more clearly, suffering. To isolate the problem, note that I am not here speaking primarily about the question of human nastiness, unkindness, lying, lust, murder, avarice, duplicity, or other violations of moral codes or commandments. While these are matters of concern to religious believers, they are primarily instances of what we can simply call moral wrongdoing. My concern is with those undesirable experiences that are not obviously or directly linked to human wrongdoing (though some people may say they are, as we shall see). The issue arises especially for theistic believers who regard God as the source of all that is, the sponsor and sustainer of what is good, the purposive ground of nature and individuals. More bluntly, if we think that the Supreme Being exists because reason requires it, or because we see evidence of beauty, design, and order in all that is, what can we think when noticing the factual presence of so much that is regarded commonly as ugly and chaotic? Can a good God be held accountable both for the pains the world gives and for its obvious benefits? Even if God is not viewed as a conscious creative cosmic process, how can we incorporate the apparent evidence of noncreativity in this view? To isolate the question exactly is difficult because of the apparent interrelation of the evil and the good. Boethius in the sixth century put the question succinctly: "If there is a God, whence come evils? But whence come goods if there is none?" If we take into account the overbearing abundance of suffering in the world and conclude that the universe can hardly be viewed as supporting order and the good, what do we do with the persistent presence of the valuable, the orderly, and the good? Clearly, the religious problem here cannot be treated in isolation. The claims we make about the presence of evil are linked to other claims we make. We seek an overall, coherent philosophy of religion that has the ring of reasonableness. We do not have to insist on perfect answers to specific problems that then have no bearing on other questions. The value of religious experience and faith is not obviously vacated if we cannot give a perfect solution to this, the religious believer's most devastating question. But that does not mean that we are excused from trying to understand the issue. While an occasional contemporary believer may think he or she need

112

VALUE, EVIL, AND SUFFERING

not face this question squarely, from the earliest times thinkers in every single religion have tried to offer some sort of solution. It behooves us to look at or survey some of these proffered solutions. But first we should look at the evidence. 1. Empirical Findings (1) Natural catastrophes. A survey of events occurring in recorded human history gives us some dismal pictures. We have records .of earthquakes as far back as 526 A.D., the one in Lisbon in 1755 being among the most devastating. In the twentieth century alone, when better records have been available, we know of over fifty-five earthquakes, which have taken a human toll of close to two million, apart from injuries and damage to crops and property. Just one flood occurring on the Huang River in China in 1931 caused 3,700,000 deaths. Between 1963 and 1965, 79,000 people were killed in windstorms in Bangladesh. In sixty-one years, 4,700 persons have been killed in tornadoes in the United States alone. Hurricanes and other severe storms on land and sea take an annual toll. Tidal waves and volcanic eruptions have resulted in much suffering for centuries. In 1815, 50,000 died in a volcanic eruption in Indonesia. Strong evidence also exists that cosmic accidents in prehuman history have occurred, upsetting life patterns of animals and vegetation. Lightning has killed human beings and animals and caused wasteful forest fires. The vagaries of weather result in the suffering of thousands of living creatures. One scientist observed that "the chance of enough decent food for millions of human beings may depend simply on the whims of one year's weather." (2) Waste, overproductivity, and overpopulation in the biological world. From a human perspective, nature seems prodigal in producing so many polliwogs or so many seeds that never germinate. "So careful of the type," wrote Alfred Lord Tennyson, "so careless of the single life. For fifty seeds she brings but one to bear." A meaningless fecundity of minute animals seems to exist. And in the 1990s the question of the world's rapidly increasing population makes more vivid the possibility of mass starvation and death in the decades ahead. In addition, evidence abounds to suggest waste in the natural order long before human beings appeared on the scene. (3) Malformations and birth defects. Apart from the strange defects and malformations in the plant and animal worlds, human beings have experienced thousands of inexplicable cases of malformations and physical defects. Siamese twins have been born joined at the head. Babies have arrived totally deaf, some with incomplete organs, partial or malformed limbs, Down's syndrome, sicklecell anemia, congenital heart disease, hermaphroditism, and the like. It is a sad story and much suffering ensues. (4) Mental deformation. We see also imbeciles, cretins, hydrocephalics, microcephalics, and other severe mental incapacities. Some cases of profound idiocy appear in which even primitive human instincts such as self-preservation

Empirical Findings

113

are lacking. Some creatures require twenty-four-hour care, with no prospect of growth because of limited brain size. In addition, about one in a thousand children are autistic, with no clear cause and with no known cure. (5) Disease, pain, and suffering. A list of the serious diseases afflicting human beings and animals is distressing when we try to look at the world of good and evil. In 542 A.D., a plague began in Constantinople imported by rats from Egypt. It spread to Syria and all of Europe had succumbed. A severe plague began in England in 1528, and by 1563 over 20,000 people were killed by it. Again in 1592, the plague brought down 15,000 more, and it spread to Paris and Italy. When the plague began in Germany in 1618, the population was seventeen million; by 1648, it had sunk to eight million. Cholera killed thousands of people in India in 1826 and in Russia and Scotland in 1832. And what of the rugged persistence of conditions such as cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, debilitating strokes, cancer, multiple sclerosis, AIDS, diabetes, or Alzheimer's disease? These may not always be associated with pain, but many experience excruciating pain and discomfort for weeks. Patients lose their minds and identity, and they bring sorrow and suffering to loved ones who care for them. To be sure, plagues have been virtually erased and small pox has been eradicated, but disease arid suffering persist in the human and animal world. One of the characters in David Hume's Dialogues on Natural Religion, Sextus, speaks of "the curious artifices of nature in order to embitter the life of every living being."2 (6) Pests. From a human perspective, far too many mosquitoes, flies, harmful viruses, bacteria, killer bees, and rodents exist. Swarms of locusts can destroy vital crops in a few days. A plague of fire ants can devour food crops, destroy farm chicks, and even kill newborn lambs. Liver flukes and the protozoa causing malaria seem to have little reason for existing. (7) Evolutionary loss. Even before the appearance of the human species, nature was replete with species long since extinct. An amazing assortment of ancient animal remains awaits the paleontologist. The LaBrea Tar Pits in Los Angeles contained fossils of fascinating and diverse species of animals that died out long before the first human being appeared. One of the most successful of all prehuman ancestors, the dinosaurs, were totally wiped out 65 million years ago.3 Evidence shows several mass extinctions in the last 250 million years. These may have been caused by powerful volcanic eruptions, an asteroid striking our planet, or the passage of a planet called Nemesis, which comes near enough to the earth every 26 million years to cause turmoil, dust, and ash—destructive of all but minute species of life. Since 1800, more than seventy-five species of animals have become extinct. Gigantic mastodons, ground sloths as big as oxen, saber-toothed tigers, and giant wolves are just examples. Reflecting on this, Austin Fairer has said: "No one can seriously believe that the Creator even in the realm of his own imagination experiments with bad ideas before he hits upon the good."

114


(8) A dismal future ecological outlook. Scientists in recent years have been warning not only that certain unusual flora and fauna are becoming extinct because of the destruction of the environment, but that the reduction of the ozone layer with the consequent "greenhouse effect" will make ordinary life difficult for all living creatures. Only recently have the ill effects of acid rain and the use of fossil fuels begun to be recognized, and the claims of conservative scientists are alarming. Unless drastic changes are made in human use of the environment, the future is bleak indeed. (9) Apparent inevitable population explosion. Scientists anticipate that within the next four hundred years a tremendous increase in the human population will occur (Isaac Asimov once suggested that the population density all over the world will likely be much higher on the average than it is now on Manhattan Island).4 More specifically, according to estimates made for the United Nations Population Bureau, by the year 2025 Mexico City and Shanghai will have over 36 million inhabitants apiece. Sao Paulo will have almost 30 million, Dacca over 23 million, and the Indian cities of Bombay, Madras, and Calcutta will each have well over 20 million. What kind of life will exist at that time if controls on population growth are not operative? The outlook for animal species is even worse. That the universe as a whole is moving toward the good for its creatures is hard to maintain, when so many will disappear and the outlook for quality of life is so discouraging, even stark. (10) The persistence of human nastiness in prejudice, hatred, war, and racism. While I hesitate to list this as a problem here, we must ponder whether such unchanging and persistent unkindness and inhumanity is directly the result of human responsibility alone. Is something not wrong with the human psyche as such, with its genetic ordering, which makes possible such unrivaled nastiness and the kilting of its own species? Few animals destroy members of their own kind with brilliant efficiency. And if they did, they would not offer such elaborate justifications for doing so as we have seen through all of human history and still see coming from old money-making patriots. While human slavery has almost disappeared from the planet, the greatest human evil, war, shows no signs of decrease. Learned thinkers in at least eight of the eleven literary religions of the world still are perverse enough to work out clever reasons for justifying the maiming and killing of other people. From the massacres of Genghis Khan to the horrors of Adolf Hitler's holocaust and Josef Stalin's purges, as well as the persistent efforts to this very day to justify the dropping of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we can wonder whether something is intrinsically wrong and irredeemable in the human psyche. Some theologians easily propose a single-word answer—sin—but that only restates the problem. The leaders of every nation have been saying ever since history began that wars they have been engaged in were necessary and just. More human beings are killed in one day of war than in a week of floods. Is God responsible for sin and hard hearts?

A Critical Look at the Empirical Findings

115

Traditionally, Judeo-Christian religion has entertained the idea that God himself causes the "hardening" of human hearts, as we read about Pharaoh in Genesis. We may have come a long way scientifically and in the accumulation of knowledge, but the signs of moral growth are greatly disappointing. If God exists, who exercises providential concern for his creatures? Why does he make kindness so hard for them? And why are hate and revenge so easy for them?5 2. A Critical Look at the Empirical Findings Before considering so called "solutions" to the issue of nonpurposeful evil in the world, a few observations on how the evidence can be taken will be useful. (1) First, some of the evidence cited above may involve what has been called "multiple meanings." Something that appears as a source of suffering, cruelty, or pain may also be a source of something good and beneficial. A nineteenth-century lad crippled from birth may not be of much use as a farmhand, but his incapacity to do chores may make possible a release of mental energies that could enable him to become a first-rate astronomer or poet. Other cases exists where an obvious physical defect has made possible a degree of human creativity that could not easily have been anticipated. Some also claim that floods, earthquakes, and forest fires have brought about unanticipated good results. Tornadoes, we read, are "mankind's friend" because life would almost be impossible without turbulence to cut winds.6 (2) Some of the suffering linked to natural disasters and birth defects can be traced directly to human irresponsibility, greed, and willful ignorance. European mothers who used the inadequately tested drug Thalidomide in the early 1960s gave birth to many malformed infants, who now as adults meet to offer each other mutual assistance. Use of drugs and alcohol by pregnant women means that their offspring will have less chance for healthy bodies, some being prone to drug use as a result. Failure to follow known laws of hygiene and preventive medicine may result in debilitating strokes, heart disease, or AIDS. Similarly, the greed of the lumber industry for quick profits has resulted in the overcutting of forests, thereby changing water run-off patterns, which can lead to wasteful flooding. The destruction of the rain forests in the Amazon basin hastens a reduction of the ozone layer. And even some of the famines that occur in the world are not consequences of bad weather patterns but are organized by grain merchants, as Bertolt Brecht once noted. Soil erosion and the gradual increase of arid deserts may likewise be attributed to bad human planning and other irresponsibility, just as the careless use of matches has led to vast forest fires. (3) Western religious minds are peculiarly prone to an anthropocentric bias—a bias that views all events solely from the human point of view. Something may be regarded as evil or producing suffering only because it brings about dissatisfaction in human beings. Mosquitoes, blade flies, and other insects are annoying pests for humankind, but are sources of needed food for

116


hungry birds. That everything in nature must satisfy the desires of human beings is not at all obvious. The balance in nature is just that, and it is not geared just for human beings. As some Asian religions arid current animal rights proponents teach, animals possibly exist for their own sakes and not merely to provide pleasure, comfort, and food to human beings. At this point, Buddhists, Jains, and Hindus can offer a broader outlook on so-called suffering than the usual Westerner who puts himself or herself above every other form of existence and judges all by what it does for their comfort and well-being. (4) Interestingly, the amount of suffering in the world caused by human beings themselves seems at times to be about as great as that done outside of human auspices. While 4,700,000 Chinese people died in three major floods in forty-four years from 1887 to 1931, 8,538,000 people were killed in World War I in Europe in just four years. Over thirty million, many innocent civilians, were killed during six years of World War II, not only in battles and Hitler's gas ovens but also as a result of Allied saturation bombing and the dropping of two atomic bombs. Veterans' hospitals all over the world are still peopled with those injured, blinded, and maimed. We cannot keep exact accounts in such matters, but the suffering in this century alone caused by human hatred, cruelty, prejudice, and unkindness seems almost as great as the suffering for which a divine being might be held accountable. Even the murderous Genghis Khan, whose empires ranged from Peking to the Danube in the early thirteenth century, could not equal the horror and suffering caused by "civilized" Europeans and North Americans in two world wars. While true that tornadoes and hurricanes wreak havoc and death, so do warriors presumably acting "responsibly." On one day—1 July 1916—twenty thousand British soldiers were killed in the Battle of the Somme, four times the number of persons who died in sixty years of tornadoes in the United States. The problem of evil and suffering is a profoundly serious one for the religious believer, but it is also one for the irreligious humanist, ethicist, and professional skeptic—the great majority of whom still offer justifications for mass killings and have not yet repudiated nuclear weapons or germ warfare and who laud nationalistic patriotism to absurd extremes. The seeds of war and its horrendous attendant evils have never been repudiated wholly by the leaders of nations, religious or not. They still offer threats of deterrence and retaliation toward fellow human beings, with scarcely a twinge of conscience. The Supreme Being, if such there be, cannot be held accountable for these sources of past sufferings and the sincere intentions to cause future suffering and death if deemed necessary. This is a sordid and discouraging history, indeed. In light of the above observations and considerations, we may yet ask whether some evils are irreducible, that is, cannot be interpreted away or resolved. We may then call them surds. The evidence suggests that some instances of evil and suffering serve no imaginable or conceivable purpose and thus apparently cannot be resolved in some elaborate theological justificatory

A Critical Look at the Empirical Findings

117

scheme. Think, for example, of microcephalics and human beings born without the capacity even for self-preservation. When confronted with the possibility of such surd or irreducible evils, some religious minds have (i) challenged the very process of inquiry or (ii) made simplistic appeals to faith, urging acceptance of whatever occurs. (5) Alleged fruitlessness of the inquiry. Again, before seeking a solution, notice preliminarily an attitude that shuns any effort to offer solutions to the problems of evil and suffering. This attitude is found in the early teachings of Buddhism. For the Lord Buddha, questions of this theoretical sort do not help the person suffering nor do they alleviate pain or misery or sadness. To deal directly and practically with specific harsh events is far better, he taught, than to try to explain or account for why they might have happened. Questions of why evil and suffering occur do not make for edification. In the immediate circumstances of suffering, few will oppose Buddha's plea. We must tend a wound, not ask why it happened. We must pull trapped persons out of the crumbled buildings from an earthquake, not wonder why earthquakes should be. But after emergency needs are met, human beings still do ask the question and they do seek some sort of an explanation. Note that suffering has always been the primary concern of Buddhism. Since its beginnings, Buddhists have analyzed the root of suffering, and their religious philosophy in the Four Noble Truths is replete with explanation of the cause of human suffering and how to avoid it. Furthermore, practicing Buddhists today never question the doctrine of karma and its corollary, reincarnation. That itself is a possible "solution" to the problem, and it needs to be evaluated along with other possibilities. (6) Simplistic appeals to faith. Some religious minds overlook or gloss over the raw facts of pain, suffering, and evil I have listed. They all too quickly interpret events by a simplistic faith, offering glib responses when asked how a good and purposeful deity could allow such things as malformed infants, persistent pain, earthquakes, and the like. The response is: "Some reason must exist for it." They will rationalize instances of severe suffering as goods in disguise or as part of some larger divine purpose. Even drastic cases of suffering are interpreted as having some unknown but necessary worth, simply because all that happens must be a result of the will of the Supreme One. In the past, dastardly human acts have also been seen as somehow fitting into a scheme of overall purposive goodness. A medieval hymn writer in the Christian tradition went so far as to interpret the treachery of Judas Iscariot as a "happy fault" ("O felix culpa"), believing that without Judas's betrayal, the capturing of Jesus would not have occurred. Thus, the subsequent events leading to human salvation would not have been possible. We see that same incredible fitting of evil things into a grandiose scheme in Winston Churchill's remark that "it was a blessing that Japan attacked the United States and thus brought Americans wholeheartedly into the war."7

118


We are still not free in religious circles from this overbearing kind of reinterpretation of unpleasant facts. It puts a strain on the honest intelligence and often deflects the serious inquirer from further interest in religion. Logically, it is an example of the unfalsifiability principle: not a single instance of evil or suffering could possibly be intrinsically or irreducibly bad. Since God is in total charge, no negative evidence could be admitted for discussion. The idea of a good God cannot be tested. Thus, naive faith will insist that in the most devastating suffering must be found evidence of divine purpose, and it refuses to question further. But in the presence of catastrophe or incomprehensible suffering, to remain silent is better than to offer interpretations. Too much knowledge is claimed by such persons. A recent book from a religious press entitled Why God Gave Me Pain tries to find meaning in the death of a twenty-year old woman who suffered from leukemia for two years. We can, indeed, find some value in heroic suffering, but to suggest that pain had to be is another matter.8 The opposite view is also found, and it has a clear ring of piety because it insists that clear evidence of evil and suffering is an instance of the mystery we face as human beings. We must not try to account for or explain such evidence at all but merely accept it. The Supreme Being is in total charge and whatever he does must all be right in its own way. We have no right to wonder about the suffering, even of innocents, because such wondering is an act of defiance, ah instance of human pride, and perhaps evidence of our deep-seated sinful nature. Accordingly, this view does not try to find hidden meanings in foul events nor does it construct interpretations. It asks that we resign ourselves to events as they occur and hope for the best. A Hindu acquaintance warned, "We must not peep into such mysteries." The paradigm of this attitude is found in the biblical character of Job, a righteous man who suffered miseries and pain. As he reflected on the many torments he lived through, he affirmed: "Though He slay me, yet will I trust him" (Job 13:15), That may be all that any theistic believer can ever say, though in Job's case it was a conclusion he came to after some long and persistent questioning, not something he initially voiced in unquestioning pious humility. This outlook asks us to remain both humble and ignorant. It says we can never solve the problem anyway so to try is hopeless. Thus, it has the ring of humility. It has the appeal of any mind that likes to announce that we cannot know such things. Nothing is safer and easier than meekly to say "I don't know." But in reality this is a sentimental form of skepticism, which any thoughtful person must challenge even as we must challenge the religious mind that claims to have all the answers. A reflective person who inquires about serious and grave matters cannot be rationally satisfied if told that all inquiry should cease in the name of piety. If told that rational satisfaction is itself a false aim—that instead simple faith will suffice—we are thrust back into dark superstition. Theologians and others who approach the problem of evil in this

Attempts at Solutions

119

way are doing a disservice to their religion as well as making a virtue out of posed, ignorant humility. The historical fact is, as I have said before, that most of the great religious leaders of humankind across the ages and cultures have been willing to ask blunt questions and have given the topics serious consideration. The claims of false humility or sentimental piety are irrelevant here. How can inquiring after and wondering about the facts of suffering be a case of human bravado and sinfulness? How can wondering in all sincerity why an allegedly omnipotent deity permits innocent children to suffer when he could stop it if he wished be impious? A century ago, Borden P. Bowne put it this way: I wish I could interpret the Divine goodness as easily as some of my acquaintances! . . . What an awful world this is with its pain and sorrow and wretchedness and slaughter extending all through history! . . . Would a good man do any of the things that God is doing every day? 3. Attempts at Solutions Six general kinds of solutions emerge to the problems of evil that have been offered, and I shall look at examples of each, noting a bit of the-history of each view and making critical comments. We see (1) answers that seek a causal explanation, (2) solutions that explain evil as essentially unreal, (3) reinterpretations of evil and suffering as unknown or disguised goods, (4) pragmatic and poetic solutions, (5) atheistic claims, and (6) reconsideration of the nature of the Supreme Being. (1) Answers seeking a causal explanation. In ancient Zoroastrianism, believers claimed that suffering and evil were caused by an evil force or spirit—Angra Mainyu—who stood in opposition" to God (Ahura Mazda). Rustom Masani, in setting forth this view, notes that this doctrine of what can be called eternal polarism (the first in the history of religion) postulates the independent existence of evil. Thus, evil is not sullied good, nor negation, nor good in process of formation. Two primeval powers are at work, the Beneficent Spirit (also called Spenta Mainyu) and the evil spirit (Angra Mainyu). The two spirits exist in relation to each other but "they meet in the higher unity of Ahura Mazda." This dualistic view is still widely found throughout the world among practicing believers in traditional Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. (An early Christian heresy, called Manichaeism from the fourth century, held that evil and darkness are self-existent and that the God of light bears no responsibility for them.) Commonly claimed is the existence of a personified power known as Satan, who competes with the divine being for the souls of people and is the source not only of sin but also of human suffering and natural catastrophes. Millions of Muslim and Christian Fundamentalists interpret much of their practical day-to-day experience by means of the idea of Satan or the devil.

120


Some believe, as modern Parsees do, that this evil power has legions of demons to carry out his work. Indeed, active rituals are still used for exorcising demons in some Christian churches. Similarly, popular Hindu polytheism makes room for Gods such as Durga, who causes cholera, floods, and destruction; but most thoughtful or philosophical Hindus do not hold that two ultimate forces exist in the universe opposing each other. In spite of the cultura! weight of the idea of Satan, furthered in the visual arts and in literary works like Milton's Paradise Lost and Goethe's Faust, the idea of a counterforce is logically and religiously repugnant. Those who accept Satan as a real power haye argued fallaciously that the first thing Satan does is to get us to doubt his existence. (Two examples are Billy Graham and the Russian Orthodox textbook.) Others notice that the figure of Satan bulks large in the Hebrew, and at least after the influence of the Persian captivity, Christian and Muslim Scriptures, and great religious teachers such as Jesus and Mohammed seem to have accepted the idea of a satanic power. But few philosophers of religion and only the most literalistic theologians give any serious heed to the question. To account for the appearance of a satanic power in human history is difficult enough. The idea of a "fallen angel" leaves unexplained why that angel was initially motivated to turn away from the omnipotent source of goodness and creativity. A more serious question concerns the nature, character, and power of a deity that we would have to accept should such a counterpower exist. Can we conceive that an all-powerful and omniscient deity would permit an evil power to go about his vicious task unchecked, wreaking havoc and pain on innocent children when, as Martin Luther once wrote, "one little word shall fell him"? Can we revere a divine being who could stop suffering but refuses to? Human beings restrain criminals and put them away as quickly as possible, even trying sometimes to redeem them. But the Supreme Being does not and will not deal with Satan that directly. While the idea of Satan may religiously accentuate recognition that human beings seem to have built-in frailties, we need not account for those frailties by positing an external evil agency. Can an absolutely evil being such as Satan acquire any rights over his creator? Furthermore, a universe split in two is metaphysically hard to comprehend. Such a dualism cannot even be formulated consistently. If the satanic power causes earthquakes, cholera, volcanoes, and famines, and the benevolent divine being is responsible for beauty, health, fine weather, and good harvests, how can we possibly understand the unity of the laws of science? Does the supremely good being and the supremely evil one have laws that each controls? If so, how can we find any overall unified purpose to historic existence? Literalistic theologians in the West often think that philosophic queries are themselves instances of sinfulness. They provide elaborate constructions about the second coming of a Messiah or Mahdi who will conquer Satan and his forces in one final battle called Armageddon, where God will collect his enemies for destruction. After that, God will reign over his elect subjects, will no longer be challenged, and peace will cover the earth.


121

The energy some religious people spend worrying and arguing over such forecasted events tends to be divisive instead of promoting more gentleness and human kindness in the world. This suggests, perhaps, a definite need for psychotherapy if not psychoanalysis. (2) Solutions that explain evil as essentially unreal. Some people have suggested that the presence of suffering in the world is ultimately a result of human free will, even going so far as to blame all human suffering on the one choice of the first man, Adam. Adam's decision to go against a command of God, so the claim goes, has been responsible for all the suffering human beings have experienced since his time when the world was an untainted paradise. But we must ask whether tuberculosis and diphtheria are the inevitable results of one bad decision made by the first human being in the distant past. Can a baby born in 1990 without arms or eyes be understood as a long-range consequence of an initial bad choice? Surely, the destruction and death wrought by volcanoes and earthquakes cannot be explained so naively. Nor can the extinction of dinosaurs or other grand creatures who perished long before any human beings were around be so explained. While possibly true that people who are careless in eating habits, unhygienic, or too lazy to prevent the spread of disease by exterminating infected rats, for example, do bear some responsibility for subsequent suffering, such irresponsibility leaves far more things unexplained than it accounts for. Another aspect of this view, which places responsibility for suffering on human beings, is suggested in the thought of Benedict Spinoza and in some practical Buddhist teachings. In his final book, the learned philosopher E. A. Burtt proposed, "nothing that happens to us is in itself good or evil, satisfying or disappointing; we make it so by the way we take it." While that viewpoint has some relevance for states of mind, moods, and even pain, it provides no account whatever of infants and children who are dfeformed or suffer. Nor does it seem viable in explicating a hurricane's devastation. We cannot make something like massive catastrophes good or better merely by adopting a different attitude toward them. (3) Evil and suffering as unknown or disguised goods. A more serious and more widespread view maintains that suffering in both human beings and animals is a result not of one person's original sin or of subjective attitudes, but of each individual's own past sins. Evil is, accordingly, a deserved punishment for sins. But which sins—our own, our parents', our ancestors', or the sins of our own individual past lives? On this point we find a significant division between East and West. In the Jewish-Christian-Islamic tradition, people sometimes claim that the iniquities of the fathers will be visited upon their children. The second of the Ten Commandments reminds us that to make a graven image of the deity will result in punishment "unto the third and fourth generation" (Exod. 20:5). However, later in the same tradition, when the disciples came to Jesus with a blind man, inquiring who had sinned that the man was born blind, Jesus set aside that interpretation: "Neither hath this man

122


sinned, nor his parent" (John 9:3). We do not automatically suffer because a forebear told a lie or used false weights. But in the karmic religions, the idea of suffering as a consequence of our own past sins is a vital and widespread doctrine. Millions of believers accept it. And it is a doctrine appealed to as an explanation for all kinds and conditions of suffering. I have a disease now because I deserve to have it as retribution for some sin done in a previous life. If an infant is malformed at birth, that is a proper result of past choices, the consequence of sins in one or more past lives. If we are washed away by a tidal wave or crushed in an earthquake or suffer excruciating pain, we must realize, on this view, that we are reaping what we have sown. Each individual is responsible for what they have done and must bear the consequences no matter how severe. (We can, however, build up good karma in the present life and thereby reduce suffering in future lives.) Even if a person should perish in an automobile accident, that too is explicable by the law of karma, for why were those persons found in just these circumstances? Heinrich von Stientencron has made an interesting observation that most in the Indian tradition would share: "Reincarnation frees the deity from immediate responsibility for all the misery of the world without requiring a devil and without glossing over that misery."9 The idea is straightforward, but the logic is not good. If we sin, we will suffer. Thus, if we suffer, we must have sinned at some time in the past. No sin exists without suffering; and no suffering exists without its source in sinful acts. I cannot here go into the doctrine of reincarnation or transmigration, which is the metaphysical presupposition of this belief, but some queries remain. Seemingly, no form of suffering, human or animal, is not encompassed by this doctrine. But what about the character this doctrine does not encompass? What about the character of the suffering itself? What assemblage of what sort of sins in a previous life justifies the baby born with no eyes? And what of the individual who is born without enough consciousness to realize that he or she is being punished or enough intelligence to try to overcome the bad karma so the next life might be better? We are told that the principle is invariable. The suffering we endure as punishment always fits the crime we have committed. But no way exists for us to discover just what has brought the pain we now have. In an ordinary court of law, the criminal knows with what he or she is charged and knows the crime being punished. But in the universe we must accept whatever punishment we receive as the necessarily just dessert of previously unknown sinful actions: Such a claim would seem to make a shambles of moral growth. At the same time, we must pay for what we have done. Yet karma (discussed again below) can say precious little about the problems of overproductivity and evolutionary waste. (4) Pragmatic and poetic solutions. Some thinkers have tried to explain the facts of evil and suffering as resulting from a lack or absence of good—as privation, to use Saint Augustine's term. This view claims that everything God has made is of necessity good. If evil exists, it is a malfunctioning of good.


123

Blindness is a privation, an incomplete use of the eye, though the eye itself is good. While Augustine asserted degrees of higher and lower or greater or lesser goods, whatever is evil in them has in some way corrupted or spoiled them. If we should ask why something malfunctions or is incomplete in some way—for example, disease—the response seems to be that such occurrences take place because of free will. Since God by nature cannot do anything evil or bad and all that God causes must by nature be good, the creature in some sense is responsible for the privation or lack of the good. The absence of goodness, its lack, is a consequence of the creature's freedom, a result of sin. In the tradition of the Neo-Platonist Plotinus, we see a slightly different version, for in his case all the world of nature is an emanation of God—a flowing out—and is thus part of God's very nature, though distant from the center of God's being. Evil, then, is a lessening or diminution involving distance from the good. In the religious view of Christianity, nature and creatures are not emanations but creations of God and thus evil is not a flowing out from God. While this "privation" view represents an interesting historical outlook, a new angle in viewing what evil and suffering are, it does little more than restate the problem. To say that all evil—especially the evidence of waste and destruction that obviously occurred before any human agents existed—is a product of human freedom is no "answer" or solution. But Augustine cannot be blamed for not understanding evolutionary theory, the age of the earth, the annihilation of dinosaurs, and the like. Insofar as this view of privation places responsibility on human agency, it is subject to the same criticism made above. It is even less coherent or reasonable than the karmic view, because we are speaking of but one life, not previous lives that are reaping the reward or punishment of former lives. How may we conceive that a newly born infant without arms and blind is in some way responsible for his or her state? To suggest that deformed or malformed babies are consequences of parental sin implies that innocent persons suffer for someone else's sins. That is unintelligible from any standard of human justice, and if the deity decrees that innocent children should bear the weight of a parent's sinning, the level of justice implied is subhuman and the kind of deity involved is not worthy of worship or praise. "It is not your father's will that any of these little ones should suffer." The conscience rises up in protest! (5) Aesthetic claims. An ingenious and novel effort to explain the presence of suffering in the world has been offered by the distinguished contemporary philosopher Charles Hartshorne. He absolves God of all responsibility for evil by saying that creatures, some subhuman and minute, are the causal ground for evil: "Perhaps there is no why God sends us evils, since he does not send them at all. Rather he establishes an order in which creatures can send each other particular goods and evils."10 He adds: "God is neither a wise sadist nor a detached magistrate, torturing us for some good end. Rather he turns creatures loose to be each other's destiny, within wise limits of natural law."1' Again, "the universe is, in a manner of speaking, a bureaucracy and the

124

VALUE, EVIL..ANDSUFFERING

members of this bureaucracy whose actions furnish the setting for an individual's life are all fallible, more or less unintelligent, imperfect agents . . . a partial dependence upon the choices of others, there is no escape in this world or any other. . . . God himself must be qualified by creaturely choices."12 An advantage of this view is, like the previous one, that it absolves God from responsibility. He does not cause or sanction suffering, disease, or malformation. Those things occur as part of the risk of existence, and while God has established laws, he does not totally control all the myriad creatures in the universe. Bacteria and viruses contribute both to the gpod and evil in the world, and when suffering occurs it is a product of the intermingling of vast numbers of creatures. God is himself affected by what these creatures do. Hartshorne's doctrine requires an ontological panpsychism. Subhuman creatures can work together for good or evil, and evil occurs when they do not work in proper harmony. This view sees God not as an omnipotent eternal being but as a benevolent creative process who is involved in the life of his creatures but does not have the power to control their every move. While this view might offer insight in explaining illness or even malformation, to understand how it accounts for earthquakes and other natural disasters is hard unless we assert that even in the world of apparently dead nature interacting units exist that have somehow failed to function together properly. Can the predicted future ecological disasters be explicated this way? But Occam's razor exists in philosophy: We should not overcomplicate theories, given clearer and ample accounts. Hartshorne's view not only denies omnipotence to the divine being, but it makes him scarcely more than a creative process who does not seem to have any goal or overall purpose in mind except to keep the process going. He becomes the only truly intrinsic value; his creatures, who may or may not cooperate with him, amount to fleeting, impermanent identities. The view has a strongly theravadic Buddhist character. It ignores the claims of millions of believers and centuries of thought that have insisted that God is good and in charge of the good and that some far-off divine event exists to which the whole creation moves. (6) Another look at the nature of the Supreme Being. An additional view trying to account for the presence of evil in causal language is the position affirming that God is not omnipotent. The suffering and evil that exists is a result of factors not caused by him. One view claims a factor outside of God that limits his power, while another maintains factors within his very being that, while not directly causing evil, do account for it. The first is linked with Plato's view set forth in his Timaeus. The Demiurge bodies forth Ideas in the Receptacle, but the Receptacle is recalcitrant, unyielding. It does not lend itself to the full perfection of Forms. Thus, when God, for example, would produce a perfect replica of a baby's body, the effort to do so is in part hindered by the Receptacle. Reason tries to overcome necessity but is not always successful. This is not because of irresponsibility or vindictiveness, but is just part of the risk of creation.

Answers That Explain Evil as Essentially Unreal

125

The second view maintains that in his very nature are given factors that God uses in creating and maintaining the universe. He controls what is going on, but an element of brute factuality exists with which he struggles and which may thus be said to put limits on his power. E. S. Brightman, who developed this view in recent times, accordingly speaks of a finite God whose will is perfect and good but who sometimes, as evinced in the long evolutionary process, is unable to create and sustain perfect physical bodies or overcome "faults" in topography that make earthquakes possible. This view, in either of its two forms, gives a nontraditional new meaning or definition to the term "God," and I will consider it again below. One serious disadvantage is that it seems to go directly against the religious claims of all theistic religions, which have long maintained that God is perfect in every sense, in power as well as character. Critics, then, charge that a being that is not omnipotent cannot genuinely be understood as God. One clear advantage of the view is that it accounts, as no other one does, for the waste and suffering in the world of nature before the presence of self-conscious human beings who knew what suffering meant, and it does so without making a good God the source. It accords also with the Judeo-Christian view that the whole of creation "groans in travail." 4. Answers That Explain Evil as Essentially Unreal These approaches to the traditional problem do not seek to explain causes or give an account of evil as such. They in effect deny that evil exists, that what we call evil and suffering are not truly real, that they are appearances resulting from our human frailty in trying to understand. (1) One form of this view that evil is an appearance is found in the branch of Hindu philosophy known as advaita Vedanta. This view claims that the only truly existing reality is God and God alone. Individual selves and the world of physical nature do not exist ultimately in themselves. They are not distinct creations but perhaps results of the human inability to understand what is Ultimate. Perhaps the Ultimate can never be understood in rational or verbal categories, but it can be realized. When we come to the full realization of the Ultimate, we may be said to be absorbed in the One. In such absorption or realization, we no longer exist as a finite self and we also realize that the socalled world of the senses is itself only an appearance. Indian philosophers have likened the world to a magician's show. The naive and unspiritual person may think that what he or she senses is real, but it is only a show world. It appears to us as real because we do not grasp its true nature. Just as we may make perceptual errors, such as taking a rope for a snake, so too because of our unwillingness to realize the truth we take the world of appearance as the real world. The world of nature is thus unreal and false. What we popularly call evil and suffering is really our misreading of reality, our personal weakness in

126

VALUE, EVIL,.AND SUFFERING

understanding. This weakness in understanding may be a direct result of our own karma, but the point is that we take it as something real when it is not. Our limited willful human perspective keeps us from comprehending the unreality of the world of nature and its woes. Accordingly, no real evil or suffering exists. In the Hindu tradition, we read that the world "is only my maya" my seeming. ,, (2) A second form of this outlook is characteristically found in the religious philosophy of Christian Science. Its adherents maintain that our failure to understand the true nature of God makes us think that such a thing as pain or evil exists. Because we are so human and lack true wisdom, we persist in claiming that evil and suffering exist, when meditation and clearness of understanding would indicate to us no such thing. What we sometimes call suffering and evil is really an error of mortal mind, our failure to grasp the true reality of God. Methods to cure illnesses, says Mary Baker Eddy, "are the fruits of human faith in matter—faith in the workings,' not of Spirit, but of the fleshly mind which must yield to Science."1'' Moreover, she writes: "To the Christian Science healer, sickness is a dream from which the patient needs to be awakened. Disease should not appear real to the physician since it is demonstrable that the way to cure the. patient is to make disease unreal to him."14 In discussing the so-called illness of tuberculosis, Eddy suggests that inflammation, tubercles, hemorrhage, and decomposition "are beliefs, images of mortal thought superimposed upon the body; they are not the truth of man; they should be treated as error and put out of thought. Then these ills will disappear."15 She also says: "There is no life, truth, intelligence, nor substance in matter. All is infinite Mind and its infinite manifestation, for God is All-inall. Spirit is immortal Truth; matter is mortal error. Spirit is the real and eternal; matter is the unreal and temporal."16 This striking view was first formulated in the latter half of the nineteenth century, and it is still held.by a core of earnest believers. It is a viewpoint primarily concerned with the evil of creaturely suffering and provides the answer that suffering is unreal and a result of erroiieous thinking. And it affirms that with God no real accidents exist; all is planned and providential. This proposed answer to the problem of human suffering and evil has some attraction, but it scarcely touches the general problem of evil as initially described above. It makes no effort to account for the broader problems of evolutionary waste, extinct species, and natural catastrophes before human minds existed. The view is intriguing because it seeks to redefine the problem itself and to solve it by definition. Theoretically, suffering and disease may be unreal, but that does not shed any light on the facts themselves. If I have an unreal wound from which unreal blood issues, I will probably apply an unreal bandage and have the unreal cut sewn by unreal thread. To rename the fact does not clearly dispose of the fact. The view also has serious problems with deformities, imbeciles, and birth defects.

Answers That Explain Evil as Essentially Unreal

127

An additional view, one affiliated with traditional Buddhism, must be mentioned. Buddhists adopt a view of karma, but many of them have also taken the position that no real self exists, that what we call the individual person is merely an appearance. Thus, evil does not exist in itself but could be a momentary suffering of a momentary self that has no fundamental continuity, substance, or identity. 5. Answers That Reinterpret Evil as Disguised or Unknown Good This sort of response is the most widespread among the religious believers of the world who maintain a theistic outlook. A common claim is that what seems evil to us, such as human pain or deformity, has a place in the whole scheme of things. It serves some purpose that may be unknown to us. A few religious persons have claimed to know what the larger purposes of God are, but that sounds arrogant. G. W. F. Hegel spoke of the guile or cunning of reason, which works out its own ends despite human waywardness, even using such waywardness to help fulfill its purposes. As Austin Fairer put it: Let us say that God would never have allowed evils to subsist in his creation were it not that he might find in them the occasion to produce good things unique in kind and dependent for their unique character on the evils in question. This is a'general encapsulation of the most widespread r.eligious "answer" to the problem of suffering and evil. We can distinguish several forms of this appeal. - (1) One says that evil is a necessary foil to the good. If no causes of illness existed, we would not appreciate what good health is. If no suffering and pain existed, we would not appreciate the good and pleasant. This view claims that evil is a necessary feature of the universe, which is the view's primary difficulty. How much desert or rocky ground must exist in order for humankind to appreciate the benefits of good arable land? How many toothaches must we have in order to enjoy a mouth without pain? How much excruciating pain from cancer must we experience to appreciate the absence of disease? The point is that far too much suffering exists. If we need to have suffering to enjoy painlessness, evidently far more suffering exists than is necessary. I readily admit that those who have experienced pain may psychologically be more appreciative of good health than someone who has never known real pain or sorrow. But to claim that pain is necessary seems to imply an arrogance of understanding. (2) Or we may say that evil is a necessary aspect of the whole, not as a foil but as a segment of the whole, without which the whole could not be. We cannot, then, show that each instance of suffering serves a particular good end, but taken as a whole the universe must include some pain and suffering. This

128


view is an aspect of Irenaeus's view, but it has more kinship with the theodicy of Josiah Royce, the Absolute Idealist who did not overlook suffering but said it should be "willed down" and that it was a contributing factor to the One. Evil is not seen as a foil but as a part, which, though empirically devastating, somehow fits into the whole puzzle of existence. The religious or philosophical value of such a view is not readily discernible. (3) A more common view and one still voiced by some sensitive religious believers is the disciplinary view. It claims that suffering serves the purpose of disciplining persons and promoting the growth of character. J. G. Fichte once said that nature is the material of duty made visible to sense. The world of nature primarily exists not for itself but for the sake of promoting character development. In that development, obstacles are useful and serve a definite purpose. A few decades ago, the Archbishop of Canterbury praised the inclement weather of Great Britain as a boon in disguise. He remarked that the general moral character of the British people owed much to the vagaries of bad weather. The Judeo-Christian Scriptures suggest that those whom God loves he chastens with discipline. Mahatma Gandhi claimed that God sent calamities for the purpose of disciplining his children. This view is sometimes called by critics "the moral gymnasium" view, because it understands the world to be a "vale of soul-making," a place where persons can learn to grow and develop character in the face of useful obstacles of various sorts. We can find empirical examples of persons who have attained unusual degrees of success in the face of obstacles, but whether these obstacles were necessary to the success is another question. The simple facts seem to suggest that some diseases, some sorrows, and some catastrophes cause such pain and hardship that human characters are broken and destroyed rather than molded or encouraged. To think that any earthly parent would produce blindness or profound deafness or physical deformity in a newborn in order to mold and develop character is impossible! And what of the microcephalics who have no chance to mold any character at all? The disciplinary view may have homiletical value, but it is bad philosophy. (4) What I call "the orthodox view" as found in practicing theistic religions is reticent in claiming to know much about the meaning of suffering. It does not provide easy practical or theoretical answers such as those above. It maintains that suffering and evil serve some large overall purpose but that purpose is not known by us and probably never can be known. It admits that we are ignorant about the facts of suffering, but it holds the larger hope that things will work out in God's way and in God's time. Thus, we dare not say that a particular calamity is evidence of God's grand design. We do not claim that the painful death or injury of an innocent child is part of the scheme of things and somehow will bring benefit. Instead, we accept the brute and horrible facts of human existence, believing that God will see us through to the end in spite of contingencies. This attitude does not claim much knowledge, and it is slow to put constructive interpretations on difficult problems of human pain,

Answers That Reinterpret Evil as Disguised or Unknown Good

129

catastrophe, and waste in nature. At base, it implies trust and confidence in a good benevolent God even in the face of the most dire circumstances. Bowne put it this way: "Having, as we conceive, good grounds for confidence in the divine goodness and righteousness, we trace them where we can and trust God for the rest."17 This general position is compatible with the largest majority of Jews, Christians, Muslims, Parsees, and Sikhs. The Muslim AI-Ghazali casts it this way: In the end we can only accept God's mercy on faith. The divine mercy is bound up with "God's secret," the mystery of predestination . . . Be content then with prayer; do not hanker after disclosure! You have been informed by hints and signs if you are among his people.18 It is an appeal to piety and faith. It is also an appeal to mystery, to the unknown. We are asked not. to try to fathom the ways of God toward his creatures but to trust that somehow all will turn out well in the long process of history, because an omnipotent, benevolent, and omniscient deity is ultimately in charge of everything. Religiously speaking, this may be all that a believer can say. What else can be said when faced with the pressure and presence of suffering if we are also to maintain faith in the deity? But scientists and philosophers do not ordinarily like to appeal to mystery. They would rather try to find out what is going on. This view entails a logical problem that needs to be faced. I cannot deny the brutjsh and .overbearing facts of suffering, and I do not offer glib interpretations. Yet, the claim asserts that ultimately everything that happens has a place in the divine scheme even though we may never be able to know what it is. The logical point is that no chance for falsifiability exists. Nothing could be irreducibly or ineradicably evil. Even the most dire event must fit into the divine ultimate scheme. Or, to say it differently, nothing would or ever could count as evidence if interpreted as good, even though remote or heavily disguised. The idea of God becomes unfalsifiable, untestable. That any past, present, or future evidence of evil could show that God did not exist or that God was not omnipotent and benevolent is impossible. Science and philosophy shun this kind of thinking because by their nature they are concerned with testing hypotheses and ideas by evidence. We are told that some ideas and some theories have this feature of unfalsifiability. Some have argued that the idea of God is so unique and special that it is not in any sense subject to confirmation or denial by evidence. Thus, the weight of evidence I listed early in my discussion would count as nothing against belief in a traditional divinity. At this point, we need to ask again about the role of science and philosophy in pursuing truth and whether exceptions of the sort indicated exist. We can see how some religious minds might find solace in the

130


view that their idea of God is a special case of.privileged knowledge not subject to the ordinary efforts of the human mind to uncover or discover truth. We must accept the view without question. While that may speak to some forms of piety, it is really a form of anti-reason. Interestingly, such believers do use reason in trying to establish their particular view of the deity when they distinguish their views from others. Normally, people are suspicious of the appeal to mystery. Why is that suspicion unwarranted in the case of the existence of a good God, who apparently allows horrible evils even if he does not approve of suffering? 6. Pragmatic or Poetic Solutions Many religious people do not choose to ask questions about the problem of evil, not only because they are so difficult but because the effort to arrive at answers is not as important as trying to cope with the presence of evil and assuage it. So much pain, suffering, disease, catastrophe, and death exists in the world we live in; so the question is how to put a stop to it if possible, instead of how to explain it. This approach takes at least two forms. The first is exemplified in Buddhism. When a person is found to be suffering from an arrow wound, we do not first ponder the shooter's identity, height, or motivation. We remove the arrow, dress the wound, and comfort the patient. Ponderous explanatory schemes, taught Buddha, do not make for edification. Those who do the work of the world do not have time to contemplate causes or construct theories of interpretation. The practical needs are primary, and theoretical explanations are scarcely necessary when we are caught between timbers in an earthquake or are in pain from a strangulated hernia. Learned thinkers such as Albert Schweitzer see their duty not as an intellectual one but as a practical one. To relieve pain is more fundamental than to explain its presence. The basic teachings of traditional Buddhism are focused on this problem. We need to recognize that suffering exists and we need to learn and follow those steps that will remove it. If any religion is sensitive to suffering, Buddhism is. It conscientiously tries to sensitize people into seeing the extent of suffering in the animal as well as the human world, to recognize hidden forms of suffering, and to become aware of how we may unwittingly be a cause of suffering to someone else, especially in the animal world. Once we have this awareness, we then proceed to root out those things that cause suffering. That is the meaning of the Eightfold Path. When we overcome "clinging" (craving, not mere desire) we will see that suffering itself tends to disappear. We have found its root cause, and we can thereby learn to accept it and overcome it in our lives. This practical approach has an understandable appeal. It is, however, focused more on developing a proper understanding by individuals about their own suffering. And while compassion is a necessary feature of the Buddhist attitude toward those who may not yet understand why they suffer or know how

Answers That Reinterpret Evil as Disguised or Unknown Good

131

to overcome it, the view does not effectively address the larger questions, especially those having to do with evolutionary waste and natural catastrophe. I may myself overcome personal suffering by understanding its roots, but what of the vast numbers of people who are swallowed up by a flooding river? We may have such inner control as not to suffer inwardly when we hear of such things, but what of those who are swept away? While giving the appearance of a practical useful view, Buddhism contains a sophisticated inquiry into the causal roots of suffering. It emphasizes overcoming suffering and compassion, but it nevertheless is concerned with the root causes, maintaining that unless we know the cause—which is craving—we cannot overcome it. This is not just a pragmatic answer. Another practical way of dealing with suffering is to propose, as Paul Tillich did, poetic statements about it, saying that evil is an abyss or a shadow. But this way of dealing with it is just an attempt to rename or avoid the problem. 7. The Solution That Concludes No God Exists at All When some persons consider the history of suffering and pain and the other factors mentioned above, they conclude that to reject belief in any kind of a God at all—especially the idea of God as found in the Western tradition—is more reasonable. The facts of pain weigh so heavily that honest critics wonder if we could believe in a traditional deity who has the power to get rid of suffering but does not use it. This position is not difficult to understand. The sort of things that occur in the natural world each day, and the amount of pain human beings and animals have to endure seems totally incompatible with the belief that a good, perfect God who creates and sustains the universe exists. And human beings who did some of the things that seem to be done by a divine being would be imprisoned or hanged. How could we believe in the God of the Christian, Muslim, or Jew in the presence of such overwhelming facts? In both popular and learned circles, this view has gained some acceptance. The facts of suffering have enabled some writers to sneer at religious belief and even poke fun at it. And this is understandable. Some devout believers have abandoned their piety when they have tried to square the prolonged sufferings of a loved one with belief in a loving divinity. No human being would do the things that are attributed to God. Logically speaking, this is probably the strongest case an atheist can make against the idea of God so widely held in the world today. In the opening pages of this chapter, I mentioned that while we look at the question of evil we must also recognize a joint problem of good and evil. To believe in a good God is difficult in the face of so much rampant evil. But how, then, can we account for the presence of any good things in the world, even the reliability of natural law? The atheist has a strong case but must not be allowed to think that mere negation is enough. The atheist, too, has some explaining to do. Given the

132


atheist hypothesis, on balance which of the two hypotheses in this contest is the more adequate? Answers are not simple once we open the door to careful reflection. Both views, the theist and the atheist, are efforts to explain the evidence, and both have difficulties. 8. Reconsidering the Nature and Idea of God In the face of the difficulties with the problem of evil and suffering, some thinkers have offered alternative ideas of God that meet some of the most serious objections to the traditional view that the Supreme Being is absolute in every sense. This has resulted in some serious efforts to understand the nature of the deity in a new and fresh way, a way that most traditional believers will regard as heretical even before they comprehend it. All clearly theistic religions of East and West regard God as the Supreme Being—supreme in every sense. The words are common: omniscient, omnipotent, orhnipresent, omniloving, perfect in every way, eternal, unchanging, beyond human comprehension. The difficulty for religious belief and practice is when we try to comprehend how the Supreme Deity of the universe can be both omnipotent and thoroughly benevolent at the same time. How can a deity that is good and almighty permit or allow the suffering and pain and other ills that occur in the world of nature and its creatures? Epicurus stated bluntly a long time ago: "If God wishes to prevent evil but cannot, then he is impotent, if he could but will not, he is malevolent; if he has both the power and the will, whence this evil?" When piety tells the inquiring mind that it should not raise such questions and instead should accept things as they are, it does a disservice to truth and genuine religion. Victims of suffering and tragedy surely have the right, if not the duty, to wonder why in a universe created and controlled by a good God such suffering should exist. (1) Idea of a finite God. Though suggestions were made earlier, a number of thinkers in the twentieth century have put forward the idea that while God is perfect in character and knowledge he is not perfect in power. The evidence of the creative thrust in biological evolution has indicated to some that God is not unlimited in power and that the processes of nature indicate purposiveness and goodness but not final perfection. Natural evil and suffering occur not only because they are mysterious intentions of an absolute being whose ways are past finding out, but because what God can do has some limits. No thoughtful theist has ever said that God can do anything mentionable or things that are logically impossible to conceive. To say that God could make himself twice as powerful as he was before he destroyed himself is meaningless. As Saint Thomas Aquinas remarked, "God can do the doable . . . and some things, like saying there was no past are not doable." This position says that God has limits on his power that are part of his very nature. He has sufficient power to produce and sustain nature and its laws, but some factors in his very being limit perfection in the natural order. Thus, we could suggest that the deity is like a

Reconsidering the Nature and Idea of God

133

potter who must work with clay to produce bowls and pots but cannot change the nature of the clay itself. In nature alone, evolutionary development seems to suggest such a deity. Full-blown forms do not occur at once. Things are not created perfectly at once, but the creative thrust directs nature to more and more fulfillment, from mute unicellular entities through sentient and intelligent creatures to self-conscious beings who can understand their own nature. Accordingly, God works creatively toward some good end but in a sense must struggle with what has been called "the given." He works with features of his very nature and creates and controls the universe, but occasionally catastrophes, malformations, and suffering occur. These are never intended but are part of the risk God takes when producing the world and living creatures. Just as a living person carries his own biography with him, say, in the form of memories, God too works with factors in his own nature. I cannot decide today that all my memories of the past will be erased and that the future will contain no memories of today. Memory is part of my given personality. I can choose to remember only the pleasant and beautiful things and try to forget the ugly and the devastating, but I can never say, "From this point on I will have no memory." Similarly, we could suggest that God has given factors in his nature that he cannot get rid of but which he can use, control, and develop in marvelous creative ways beyond human imagining. What are the factors and on what basis can we accept the view that God is limited in power and still maintain a clear theism? Brightman has developed this view most significantly for recent philosophy of religion, but it is also found in the thought of Hartshorne and other so-called "process" theologians. Factors of three kinds exist, says Brightman. Our own experience is characterized by these factors—activity, form, and content. Real things are active, they embody some form or structure, and they entail some qualities, namely, sensations, desires, and impulses. Thus, Brightman suggests: Our experience of activity would be evidence for the cosmic will of God; our experience of form would be evidence for his uncreated, eternal reason; and our experience of brute fact would be evidence for his uncreated non-rational content.19 The data of prehuman evolution support the view that God's power works with such factors. We see the struggle for survival and at the same time a tremendous waste in the production of life. One person calculated that the number offish that are eating other fish in any given minute is equal to the number of drops of water going over Niagara Falls in that minute.20 Brightman comments that the real problem for religious faith "arises from the cruel and irrational waste and the seeming aimless futility which evolutionary studies have revealed."21 Chance, not purposive reason seems to be indicated by such evidence. At the same time, the evolutionary process has resulted in the appearance of species fit to survive. Jacob Gould Shurman spoke about the

134


"arrival of the fit," indicating that waste and futility are not the total story about evolution. Those who affirm the position of a God who is not infinite insist that the very idea of infinite power cannot be comprehended. God's goodness is then seen as prior and more important than God's power. Whatever evil and suffering exist cannot then be seen as intended by God but instead as one of the risks of existence that he cannot totally get rid of. He is potent but not omnipotent. This proposal as a "solution" to the vexing problenrof evil and suffering has some advantages. It admits the presence of unpleasant, irreducible evils without saying in advance that no such things could exist in a universe run by an omnipotent being. It thus addresses the falsifiability problem directly. Instead of saying that no evidence could logically show that a non-omnipotent God existed, it admits the existence of irreducible evils, surds, which have no purpose and which cannot be worked around to the position that all is coming out alright. Instead of maintaining that such surds indicate God's nonexistence, this view says that such surds show only that God is not omnipotent—potent, yes, but not infinite in power. In the past few years, Rabbi Harold Kushner has faced this question directly. He points out that when confronting irreducible evil, we may not think that God visits these things upon his children but that they occur with no intention, reason, or piety. He then suggests that we might try to forgive God for these things that he did not intend. An additional value in this finitism is that it does not appeal to ignorance and tell us that all things, no matter how horrible, are somehow really good but we cannot yet see that. It faces and recognizes a clear distinction between good and evil and that evil cannot be a mere appearance of good or good in disguise. Traditional theistic absolutism, which insists on omnipotence, must maintain that all is good or will eventually lead to the good since God is all-powerful. This view further maintains that God is changing, not in character but in his creative productions. He is, then, to be thought of as "inexhaustible perfectibility," instead of as a distant, perfect unchanging absolute.22 The objections to the view that God is finite in power are many. Most traditional religious believers cannot think of a God who is not perfect in every respect. Some have argued that the religious nature rebels against belief that the Supreme is not supreme in every respect. When looking at the question of evil and suffering, the serious student who tends toward a general theism may wish to weigh these alternatives, asking which is the more coherent, which seems to account best for the evidence, and which fits into religious experience. One issue is the question of the absolute perfection of God or his perfectibility. (2) God as a nonconscious force. Another effort to redefine the nature of God in trying to come to grips with the question of evil is to speak of God as a nonconscious cosmic force that neither fosters the good nor approves of evil.

Reconsidering the Nature and Idea of God

135

This becomes a form of religious naturalism of the sort discussed in Chapter Four. The facts of evil and suffering may be considerations that lead us to such a position. But it is not a religious claim found widespread on the planet. It has the advantage of allowing for religious belief and institutions and supplants the idea of a mysterious deity whose ways are past finding out. Whether the problem of suffering is so overwhelming that we must reject the ideas of a conscious purposive power in the universe seems questionable. Theistic finitism has the advantage of satisfying religious needs and reason by preserving the character of God, but this view says that God has no character, that a creative thrust exists that is beyond our comprehension—a nonconscious thrust, in no sense a divine companion. (3) We have also the alternative of karma, which I addressed above. This yields the possibility of maintaining belief in a deity who is absolute and supreme in every sense and with whom we can strive in some way to unite. In the karmic view, God is relieved of all responsibility for what happens in the world. Suffering is a result of our own deeds, just as happiness is. The law of karma is a self-operating law ensuring that in every case we get what we deserve. This view serves the absoluteness of God but removes God from any role in time or world history, while elevating the impersonal law of karma into a place of supremacy. This is a law that not only provides the just desserts for any deeds but that takes into account even the motives and intentions of conscious selves. It is an eternal law that has the status of the multiplication tables. It is self-operative and detailed. We can even believe in karma without believing in God at all, as do Jains. And we can accept karma as a supreme law without having much concern at all for theistic belief, as do many Buddhists. 9. Concluding Comments The philosopher of religion is perplexed by the apparent contradiction between belief in a good all-powerful God and the presence of inescapable facts of evil. I have surveyed several alternatives and showed the directions in which we may go. We may assume that the world exists to promote the happiness and pleasure of its creatures, but since so many pains exist, we are faced with the task of squaring religion with evil. But perhaps the universe has another reason for existence, namely, the building of character instead of promoting happiness. Yet pain is real and often destroys character. We may not think the world exists for pleasure only, but we cannot think of it as a vast gymnasium for exercising character, when things like Alzheimer's disease cause us to lose our very identity and all chances for character growth. Can we still accept love? Perhaps thoughtful people do not wish to try to solve this overwhelming problem for the philosophy of religion. Some step aside from it, others face it, and others accept one of the possible "solutions" I have outlined. Theistic religions, however, require that an additional point be made.

136


Persons of theistic society who have not given up faith even in the face of extreme tragedy have often maintained that while the evil they confront is inexplicable, soul-destroying, and totally incomprehensible, they still believe that God in some sense shares the burden of the person in pain and of those who must face the one in pain. God is compassionate, and whether the suffering is directly or indirectly sent or whether it is a consequence of limits on his power, both approaches can and do find comfort in the idea that God in some sense suffers too. Fairer put it this way: God's compassion means therefore that he does not desert his creatures in those sufferings which his natural providence allots them, but is with them in providing the deliverance to which their pain exiles them; which he does principally by sustaining and directing their working of their own natures; secondarily by the sympathy of their fellows in those species that are capable of it.23 This view requires deep-seated piety and unwavering commitment to the belief in God's wisdom and compassion. The point is that we do not worship God because he is omnipotent but because he is good and in charge of the cosmic process. "God," Farrer writes, "whether absolute or finite is conscious of man's appeals to him, and is conscious of the ideally best response to those appeals." To assume that we are placed on this earth mainly to enjoy the maximum amount of pleasure or happiness is hasty, if not mistaken. The facts of human experience clearly indicate that this assumption resists rational justification. Equally hasty is the assumption that the presence of evil, suffering, or disorder in the universe undermines or is inconsistent with the claim that God is in charge of the world or that the world is not guided by his vision or wisdom. A. N. Whitehead was not, 1 think, mistaken when he said that God and human beings cooperate in the creation and perfection of the world. To overemphasize the fact of evil in our life is certainly one-sided. We should, as we saw earlier, give equal weight to the fact of good, Why not say that cosmic creation, including the achievements of civilization, is still going on and that God is exercising the greatest measure of vision, patience, love, and care in this creation? Belief in this idea provides a basis for understanding the actuality of evil and suffering in the world; it also provides a basis for courage, hope, and strength in our quest for goodness, truth, justice, and beauty. Is this quest not the most important concern in our lives?

Seven THE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE OF WORSHIP AND PRAYER In the history of religions, varying emphases have been placed on the importance and meaning of what is called religious experience, and similar distinctions remain today. The character and meaning of some allegedly religious experiences are sometimes even determined by doctrinal and theoretical considerations and surely by geographical and historical factors. The visions that young maidens have in Spain are not visions of Hindu avatars and Taoists in ecstatic states; nor do Hindus and Taoists have glimpses of the Virgin Mary. A well-known theologian, Karl Barth, thought that religious experience counted as nothing in the faith commitment. Today, some persons in many faiths are willing to define and even prescribe what a religious experience should be. But this topic ventures too wide afield from my study. Instead of characterizing what a religious experience is, I will look at some of the evidence of the past and claims of the present. 1. Reports of Individual Experiences Reports of vivid experiences in the various Scriptures have had a vital historical effect on the growth and success of different religions. Think of the call of Moses in the land of the Midianites as he stood before the "burning bush," the "still small voice" that Jeremiah heard, or the moving experience of Isaiah in the temple. Or consider reports of Jesus' temptation experiences, the "transfiguration" experiences of three of his disciples, and the conversion of Paul on the way to Damascus. And Mohammed's response to Allah and the subsequent recording of the Koran had a profound effect on human history since the seventh century. The striking experience Vivekananda had at eighteen when in the presence of the Hindu saint Ramakrishna resulted in sending the first Hindu missionaries to the West. Guru Nanak's awareness of the "True Name" (Sat Nam) empowered him to propound the Sikh faith in the sixteenth century. Siddhartha Gautama's quest for salvation and enlightenment, through its various stages, is the practical foundation of Buddhism. Not only did it lead to the founding of the Sangha ("congregation"), it became a model for his followers. Much actual religion as practiced today is based on the experience of founders and leaders. But not all living religions have been motivated by such explicit experiences as those cited. Similarly, we find claims and reports of vital religious experiences in our own time. Lives headed in the direction of self-seeking have been radically altered toward lives of self-giving service. The vagrant becomes upright, the

138

THE RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE OF WORSHIP AND PRA YER

alcoholic becomes sober, the mean becomes, kinder, the complacent are awakened, the rich give up their wealth. Reportedly, vital religious experiences have motivated persons to behave in remarkable ways, not just in their private lives but sometimes in influential ways in the wider community, even in politics and government. Think of A. J. Muste, the great peace activist, whose organizational skills, direct action protests, prison stays, and unswerving commitment to nonviolence were supported and motivated initially by a deep religious commitment. Or consider the story of Zaccheus, the despised taxcollector who underwent a vivid personal experience when Jesus was his dinner guest. He forthwith made amends to those he had wronged and paid back tenfold what he had dishonestly collected. A rehearsal of such stories suggests that personal religious experience has a specific effect on personal and social behavior. Some of the changes mentioned could be explained in other ways, but the claim has been that religious experiences made the difference. To be sure, not all the behavioral results of religious experience have been beneficial. Not only have mentally unbalanced people claimed that some religious voice has instructed them to kill someone or ride through the streets naked, but those not at all demented have had experiences issuing in questionable and irresponsible conduct. In moods of religious fervor, some have overlooked biological needs and duties to parents and offspring. Some have denied civic duties; others have forsaken loved ones and reneged on social responsibilities. Not the least of those who have abandoned apparent responsibilities for fervent religious quests have been the founders of four major religions. According to accepted traditional reports, (1) Zoroaster (660-583 B.C.) left his home, later to marry the relative of royalty; (2) Mahavira, founder of Jainism (599-527 B.C.), left his princely home, his wife, and his daughter at the age of thirty to become an ascetic; (3) the Buddha (560-480 B.C.) at twenty-nine renounced palace living, his wife, and his newborn to seek enlightenment; and (4) Guru Nanak, founder of Sikhism (1469-1539), left his wife and two children in a religious quest. In fairness, note that these leaders gave up family duties not because of the religions they founded, but because of the dissatisfaction in their lives, which then led to their respective religious awakenings. To balance the apparently worthwhile fruits of religious experiences with results that are negative is not easy. However, the scholar Rufus Jones has discerningly remarked: "In some cases lack of tightness of mental organization brought with it a touch of genius and allowed a unique quality of light to break through."1 But he adds: "It has been by the highway of health rather than over the bridge of disease that the largest freight of truth has come to us."2 2. Varieties of Religious Experience All sorts and conditions of religious experiences exist. William James's classic The Varieties of Religious Experience, though written in 1902, sets forth with

Worship

139

consummate skill some of the types. His classifications are ingenious, and his examples are striking. Among other things, he explores and characterizes the mystical experience, notices traits of "the sick soul" and the "healthy soul," and avoids ruling out claims in advance, noting sympathetically sundry types. In addition to varieties in kind and quality, note also differences in degree: (1) Mild and quiet—the meditative Quaker, the devout Roman Catholic, the pensive Hindu, the disciplined Shintoist. (2) The emotional, moving from mild responses to intense ones with weeping and shouting, as found in evangelistic tent meetings in Indiana or the enthusiasts in the presence of satya Sai Baba in India. (3) Those with overt behavioral responses in the form of bodily movements—the Shakers, the Quakers, those who claim to speak in tongues, the whirling dervishes of Islam, the athletic contortions of the yogis, the selfmutilation of bodily organs of the Shiite Muslims during Muharram, and exceptional acts like those of the snake handlers in the southern United States and those who seem to perform healing miracles. (4) Those who claim a higher "holiness," a lofty stage of exaltation. Others find celibacy a keen desire. When we move out from claims of individuals to specific or noteworthy experiences, we can find data of more general interest and philosophic worth. Accordingly, I will notice two main forms of experience markedly unique to religious experience. The first is worship and the second prayer. We may safely say that no religion is present at all without some element of worship or some experience of prayer. I am not interested in claims that mimic religious experience through drugs that reportedly produce "transcendental" experiences, such as the hallucinogenic fungi of Mexico. I am interested in serious claims to religious experiences that focus on what happens in an encounter between a human being and God. 3. Worship Worship is found at all levels of religious awareness and among all religions, from the most elementary to the more sophisticated. Generally, it consists of attitudes and acts portraying respect, awe, and reverence to the being (or beings) who is the source of all that exists and of all goodness, beauty, and joy that human beings experience. Worship experiences seem initially to be natural, spontaneous responses of thanksgiving and praise to what is regarded as highest and holiest. Think of the Hindu or Parsee who adores the rising sun, the Jew who responds to the beauty of holiness, and the Buddhist who bows before golden statues of his or her lord. Broadly speaking, religious people claim that worship is the highest experience they can have, possibly being the acme of dedication and devotion. This type of experience symbolically reveals itself in expressions of repentance. An event of repentance is an occasion of authentic religious experience, for the repentant cannot undergo such an experience unless he or she feels the source of purification and divine grace that make this experience possible.

140


One of the most colorful reports of a worship response representative of what happens in several religions is found in Isaiah 6:1-8. The writer finds himself in the presence of the holy one; he describes his response in picturesque language (seraphim, each with six wings cried, unto one another and said, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory). This aweprovoking scene brings forth a feeling of unworthiness: "Woe is me! For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips." Then he is given the assurance of forgiveness—"thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged." A sense of obligation follows at once. The vivid experience issues in an act of commitment: "Here am I, send me." This sequence of awe and wonder followed by feelings of unworthiness, acceptance, and forgiveness that results in dedication is a kind of experience that may be found across the gamut of religious experience in all lands. Worship may be primarily an individual experience, as for the Zen worshiper who attains sudden enlightenment, but more commonly it is experienced with others. It may be unstructured or, more commonly, an ordered response that may take several forms. The worship experiences described in the Psalms of the Hebrew Scriptures reflect two modes of worship, individual (private) and public (serial). To trace out the reports of both the individual worshipers and the attitudes of groups is instructive. The Jain stands before an image of a Tirthankara and pays his respects in apparently unordered meditative acts of devotion. The Shinto worshiper enters the temple compound and follows a prescribed pattern. The same phenomenon can be observed in the practice of all the major religions of the world. As religions develop, various group ritual acts have evolved, including group recitation, responsive readings, singing, dancing, processions, chanting, litanies, and dramatic ritual acts. Some of these become prescriptive, requiring that things must be done in particular ways. Both proper and improper ceremonies take place, and fussiness and divisiveness occur. In some instances, not to engage in worship or not to partake of holy acts such as the sacraments may itself be a form of sin. Worship thus becomes an obligation. Failure to participate may involve penalties, and in some cases failure to perform an act properly may also involve penalties. In the Hindu tradition, devotees would rather worship in a temple dedicated to Ganesa than in one of Durga's temples because of the belief that Durga is more exacting in her demands for ritual correctness and may punish minor violations. Acts of worship entail minor obligations that may be of interest to the psychologist. Hindus, Muslims, Jains, and Sikhs may not enter the sacred area or temple without removing foot coverings, shoes, and stockings. In central Gurdwara of the Sikhs in New Delhi, a sign indicates that worshipers may wear stockings but only if they have" not been worn previously. Muslims must cleanse their feet with water or sand beforehand, but they may wear hats. Male worshipers in Judaism usually have their heads covered, if only with a Yannulke; but for Christian males, head coverings are taboo, while women are

Worship

141

expected to cover their heads, if only with a kerchief. Zoroastrians attending the sacred fire in their temples must wear masks covering their mouths. And for disciplined Hindus and yogis, prescribed postures and even garments are required. This is true also of Sufis among the Muslims. Almost an unlimited diversity of worship practices and requirements exist. Daily ritual bathing in a holy river or temple tank is enjoined in the Hindu tradition. Strong rules may be found, regarding fasting at specific times, as during the daylight hours of the Muslim Ramadan festival or before taking the sacrament for Roman Catholics. Rules exist about how and when symbols and statues are to be carried. Limitations are placed on menstruating women entering shrines, and an abundance of fussy particular requirements of all kinds must be met in both corporate and individual worship. Notably, if we are to take worship we show our sincerity and dedication through prescribed acts, even if the acts themselves may seem comical, bizarre, or pointless; following specific rituals then becomes a way to show earnestness. Hence, to ignore rituals may be as reprehensible symbolically as treading on the flag of our nation or thumbing the nose at a queen or civic dignitary. Similarly, religious believers make claims about the annual calendar as regards worship. For some, one day each week is set aside as a holy day. Indeed, one of the Ten Commandments of the Jewish-Christian tradition requires as an obligation that a day be set aside for religious worship. Muslims have also prescribed that one day a week a group worship and prayer take place at mosques. All of the religions have holy days at various times during the year, sometimes to commemorate the birth of a founder but more often in connection with historical events or striking natural phenomena. Jews celebrate Passover every year, and have holy days of atonement and purification. Christians celebrate the birth of Christ in December as well as the Resurrection at Easter. Forty days of Lent precede Easter, and Fasching in Europe is an occasion for celebration, as typified by Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Each year all Muslims have a feast season called Ramadan with strict requirements of no eating or drinking during daylight hours. Shiite Muslims have festivals like Muharram. Festivals among Hindus are annual and differ with sects. But when an eclipse or dramatic natural event occurs, worship is expected. Some elaborate acts take place only at long intervals, such as the Jain worship at Shravana Belgola every ten years or the Shinto rebuilding of specified wooden temples every twenty years, with all the concomitant prescribed colorful activities. Considerable worship activity is centered around the important experiences of life and death. All religions have rituals of varying degrees of elaboration for what have been called "rites of passage": birth, entering puberty, confirmation, Bar and Bat Mitzvah, marriage, and death. The events surrounding death are sometimes striking and involve elaborate acts. In primitive societies, family members must undergo purification after pollution, and others expect ritual acts or periods of mourning. In some areas, the

142


expectation is that some widows must shave their heads and or wear black the rest of their lives. Other aspects of worship involve pilgrimages and holy places. Only Islam makes an inviolable obligation for a pilgrimage where worship is performed. One of the Muslim pillars of faith is that adherents make a pilgrimage to Mecca or the Kaaba either in person or by proxy through helping another to attend. Hinduism, Jainism, and Taoism do sponsor pilgrimages, and they are seen by believers as having merit as instances of devotion. Some sects of Shinto such as the Tenri Kyo, present in the West, encourage the faithful to visit the shrines of their faith in Japan. While the idea of a pilgrimage as a religious duty can scarcely be found in Western faiths, Jews and Christians still exhibit a lingering if not nostalgic desire to visit the Holy Land sometime during their lives (reports from such visitors are usually glowing). Informal but popular pilgrimages are common in Europe among Christians, who not only delight to visit Rome, but also such places as the Grotto at Lourdes, to which about ten thousand souls travel every day in busloads. The idea of holy places is especially strong in Hinduism, which is closely related to the geography of India itself. As John B. Noss says, "there is hardly a bend in a river . . . which has not been seen as holy, and the number of holy places seems to be increasing." Again, "millions of Hindus derive their chief religious satisfaction from the pilgrimages they make and the temple festivals they attend."3 One other aspect of worship needs to be mentioned, namely, sacrifice. It is a feature going back to ancient times and to the dim prehistoric past. The story of Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac to satisfy Jehovah comes to mind as a prime example. A person sacrifices to make up or atone for wrongdoing, to appease a supposedly angry deity, or to acquire the benefits that only severe sacrifice might bring. The ancient Aztecs believed that Popo, their God, required sixteen live human hearts every day in order to guarantee the rising of the sun. About 5,840 human beings were sacrificed every year in a never-ending butchery. Hernando Cortez used this practice to justify his rapacious conquest. Hinduism has long engaged in rituals of animal sacrifice, although the Jains who were repelled by it helped to slow it down. Instances of sacrifice still occur in India, while the annual pilgrimage of Muslims to Mecca requires goat sacrifice on Mount Arafat. Nepalese Hindus to this day sacrifice hens, and horse sacrifices formerly took place in Zoroastrianism. I need not recount these gross expressions of cruelty to human beings and animals, but the idea still persists that the object of worship requires some form of sacrifice. In the Book of Hebrews, we read that former animal sacrifices are of no avail since Christ himself became a sacrifice! Neither by the blood of goats and calves, but by his own blood he entered in once into the holy place, having obtained eternal redemption for us. For if the blood of bulls and of goats and the ashes of a heifer sprinkling the

Worship

143

unclean, sanctifieth to the purifying of the flesh: how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without spot to God, purge your conscience from dead works to serve the living God? (Heb. 9:13-14) Again, "And almost all things are by the law purged with blood; and without shedding of blood is no remission" (Heb. 9:22). Ingrained in the human psyche seems to be the need for some sort of sacrifice. But should it involve the shedding of actual blood? Some regard the continual recalling and remembrance of Jesus shedding his blood as quintessential to the worship experience. The sacrament of the Holy Communion is a commemoration (or more, depending on theology) of the death of Jesus, which is seen as the primary sacrifice for all humankind, both those who lived before him and those yet unborn. The importance of sacrifice in the minds of some worshipers simply cannot be ignored. But the words of Psalm 51 bulk large: For thou desirest not sacrifice; else would I give it: thou delightest not in burnt offering. The' sacrifices of God are a broken spirit: a broken spirit and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. (Ps. 51:16-17) The words of Rudyard Kipling also come to mind (Recessional, Hymn, 497): The tumult and the shouting dies; The captains and the kings depart; Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, An humble and a contrite heart. What we find as religions develop from their earlier stages is a gradual moralizing of the idea of sacrifice. Instead of an object to be sacrificed, high religion suggests that the only real sacrifice should be our own willfulness and selfishness, so that contrition becomes more appealing to God than the loss of blood. What is involved here is the idea of what the Supreme One demands; and seemingly for years the idea of a wrathful deitywho needed to be appeased was so strong that sacrifice of an external sort was the only adequate response. The eighth-century prophets criticized Jewish sacrificial ceremonies involving animals, as in Micah 6:8. Jains and Buddhists a bit later criticized animal sacrifices in Hinduism, and their criticism had an effect at the time. Prophets such as Zoroaster and Mohammed put a stop to infanticide in their traditions. Regardless of the level or type of worship, at least a billion people in the world feel the need both naturally and as a duty to respond in some way to what they regard as the object of reverence and awe. To understand how so many academic philosophers can overlook the vast fund of human worship experiences today and for the past three thousand years is difficult. They fail to

144


consider its centuries-old influence on the lives and character of people and on culture, at best tending instead to reduce religious issues merely to arguments for God and the problem of evil or at worst mass dementia, hysteria, or aberrations. In an important study of religious worship, James B. Pratt some years ago made the interesting distinction between subjective and objective worship. This helps us see different tendencies. The subjective centers more on the results of the experience in the believer; the objective focuses primarily on the character of the deity. The contrast is illustrated in the Christian tradition in, for example, the Society of Friends, where worship is interiorized in a group that meets in silence until someone is moved to speak. If no one attends the meeting, no worship can take place. In the Roman Catholic tradition, attention is focused on the deity and acts of worship are performed by priests whether any one is in attendance or not. Most of religious worship throughout the world falls between these two extremes. In most cases, we see a blending of subjective and objective elements. Interestingly, people who have different doctrinal or theological concepts can unite on the level of worship. Accordingly, mystics of several faiths may have more in common with each other than communicants within the same faith, because the primary human experience seems more basic than conceptual clarity. Doctrinal differences divide when they are voiced; worship experiences may be a form of community. It comes after experiences, and it seems that doctrine that comes after experience articulates what is latent in the worship experience. If this is true, then people with intellectual difficulties or who insist on pure conceptual validity (as no one does regarding any other thing in life) may find human ties of fellowship and friendliness beneath and apart from dogmas and creeds. 4. Positive and Negative Results of Worship When we consider human worship experiences in recorded history we find both positive and negative results. (1) Worship has produced some splendid literature, for example, in the Psalms, the Gathas, and the Gita. It has motivated without question the finest architecture in the world, from the Gothic cathedrals in France to the Taj Mahal in India and much in between. It has stimulated brilliant painting and sculptured works and has had such an effect on music that to take away the music inspired by religious worship would leave the world of sound almost barren. Artistic and literary creations inspired initially by the worship experience have in turn enhanced worship itself throughout the world. William Hocking was not far wrong when he said that religion is "the mother of the arts,"5 and it is also its guardian and preserver. Since worship is regarded as one of the most refined and lofty acts we can perform, it has inspired lofty artistic masterpieces. The unsympathetic observer

Positive and Negative Results of Worship

145

of worship may note with puzzlement how much benefit to human history and culture has come from worship and what a paucity of creativity has been the deposit of those who ignore or satirize genuine religious responses to the world. (2) Worship has brought about changes in conduct in both the individual and in social matters. The aim of Tantrism, for example, is "total spiritual transformation of the person." Walter Rauschenbusch, speaking from a Christian viewpoint, has said: "The consciousness of God which we derive from Jesus is able to establish centers of spiritual strength and peace which help to break the free sweep of evil in the social life." (3) Worship has produced psychological calmness and inner peace for individuals. This is one of the most important consequences of the worship experience, for communion with God inspires self-understanding, hope, and confidence in our way of life. It enables the individual to see the truth and meaning of human life and to accept this life in spite of its mystery, shortness, and the difficulties faced in the effort to accomplish life projects. This acceptance is the foundation of spiritual peace. (4) The worship experience has, moreover, produced a strong sense of social responsibility. Religious figures such as Buddha, Mohammed, Jesus, and the Hebrew prophets—to mention just a few names—translated their religious experiences into concrete programs of social action. They felt obliged to communicate the content of their experience to their people. Justice, love, social harmony, alleviation of suffering and pain, and salvation were uppermost in their mind. Their religious experience was the source of the authority with which they spread their understanding of the divine truth. Importantly, they saw a direct relation between the nature of this truth and how people should conduct their lives in the individual and social spheres. But worship experiences also have some negative results. (5) Some worship can become mechanical and perfunctory. Actions become stylized so that the worshiper can go through the actions without any internal awareness or change. Scattering flower petals or water over a Shiva lingam can be seen as a kind of devotion, but the purchase of a contraption like a funnel that allows periodic drops of water to bathe the lingam whether anyone is in attendance or not is a degeneration of worship. Formal patterns of prescribed behavior are often little more than hollow meaningless acts that defeat the intentions of the worshiper. Even the daily "GrtiB Gott" in Bavaria or Austria as well as the common Jai-Radha (Glory to Radha) in Vrindaban India lose their intention when so often repeated. Part of the stimulus of the great prophetic movement in Israel was the criticism of merely formal, mechanical ceremonies and the neglect of righteousness. Reformers such as Mohammed, Buddha, Mahavira, and Zoroaster inveighed against corrupt worship practices. (6) Worship has a tendency to make the devotee oblivious to human need and problems and to distract him or her from daily duties and social responsibilities. Not much gets done in the workaday world when monks or holy persons spend hours in adoring the sun or going through the stations of the

146


cross, and so on. John Dewey once observed: "While the saints are introspecting, burly sinners run the world." We should also remember that when done blindly and not from a healthy sense of piety, worship can produce a numbing experience; it can function as an opiate, so that instead of enriching or elevating the spirit of the worshiper it stultifies his or her faith. When this happens, worship ceases to be an occasion for a genuine religious experience; on the contrary, it may become an occasion for social and political bigotry, fanaticism, and destruction. This is what we see happen in the course of history. Horrendous acts have issued from fanatic worshipers and also from apparently calculating leaders. Think of the so-called "Holy Wars," which were motivated by the thought "Deus Vult" (God wills it); and Jihad in extreme forms of Islam has been in the last several years a detrimental result of religious experience. The crusades sprung from religious worship experiences. The man who wrote the hymn "Jesus the very thought of thee with sweetness fills the breasts," Bernard of Clairvaux, was a vigorous supporter of the crusades. Consider also the Boxer Rebellion under Taoist influence in China in the early twentieth century or the notorious Inquisition in Spain, which issued in unspeakable acts of torture and mutilation—all in the name of religious devotion. The Near Eastern religions have a bad record when it comes to dealing with what they regard as heretics. Members of the Bahai faith suffered at the hands of Iranians. Protestants have sanctioned the burning of the heretics Calvin and Servetus as well as the second philosophical martyr, Giordano Bruno, who was burned for heresy in 1609. Note that the burning of heretics and witches issued more from a concern for theoretical errors and wrong ideas, than from acts of worship. Early Christians suffered under Roman rule simply because they would not even perform a mechanical act showing allegiance to the emperor. History is so full of negative evidence, that without taking a balanced view we can readily become cynical over the effects of religious experience and worship on human life. Some of the strongest critics of these travesties and the reform movements sprung from them have come not from without the religious groups but from within. In short, worship has been known to be self-corrective. In the name of God, critics have challenged those they thought were in violation of the highest. (7) Some of the political changes resulting apparently from worship experiences have led to dire cruelty. Consider, for example, Cortez in Central America, the conquer of primitive peoples, the foisting of European religions on persons in the South Seas and Africa, or the search for gold for Holland, England, or Spain in the name of religion. Whether in Europe, the Middle East, or the Far East, worship has been frequently used as a means of social oppression, the preservation of decadent religious institutions, and the justification of selfish or exploitive state actions.

General Types of Prayer

147

5. Prayer Prayer is virtually a universal human experience. It occurs almost instinctively, even before doctrines or rituals are formulated. George -Galloway says that prayer is "the instinctive cry of the human soul to a power that can help it in its time of need."6 Many regard prayer as the heart and soul of religion. Dean Inge wrote: "Prayer is the very breathing of the soul, the pulsation of the heart of religion. Let no one think that he is religious or knows what religion means if he does not pray habitually and spontaneously."7 We find prayer in the socalled primitive religions as well as in the more developed religions of the world. Even those faiths that may have originally placed emphasis and reliance on the actions of individuals, such as Buddhism and Taoism, produced later movements and sects that definitely made a place for prayer. Whether a Jain— who is theoretically an atheist—engages in prayer may be doubted, but worship I have seen at Jain temples resembles acts of prayer. Even Confucius, who had a minimal interest in theology, favored the use of prayer in ceremonies. Islam is perhaps the religion in which prayer is most rigorously enjoined. One of its key doctrines is that devotees pray at particular times five times each day, regardless of circumstances. Jews, Christians, Parsees, Sikhs, and Hindus also have strong doctrines of prayer. A person's view on prayer—its meaning and efficacy—are directly related to his or her view of God, nature, and the relation of the individual to the ultimate being. Bluntly, to pray, to ask for assistance, has no point if we do not believe that anyone is listening, that no mind exists to whom prayers may be addressed or no spiritual force exists who could either respond or provide some kind of help. 6. General Types of Prayer Before looking at some of the problems in prayer for a philosopher of religion, I list several types of prayer as found in living religions. (1) Most common are prayers that ask for something. These are prayers of petition, (i) Requests of all sorts are regularly made. We may ask for specific things, as a child may pray for a bicycle or an adult for money. Or we may pray for good weather, a safe journey, or safety and security, (ii) We may pray for physical or mental well-being. Prayer for health is common (and some say later it is least psychologically good), (iii) We may pray for understanding, for wisdom, and for strength to carry out our duties, (iv) We may in some faiths petition for forgiveness for wrongdoing, (v) We may also pray for other persons, intercession for their safety and well-being, and that benefits may come to them. Some religious people pray for the dead as well as the living, with the usual aim of bringing aid to someone in Purgatory, (vi) A few prayers may be called bargaining. The divine being is asked to do particular things and the petitioner vows to do something in return, such as build a shrine if his or her

148


sick child is healed. This seems to be a low form of prayer, mainly because it expresses a selfish motive and poverty of religious feeling. (2) But prayers of other types than petition exist, usually overlooked by those poking fun at prayer. We find, for example, prayers of praise and adoration, wherein we respond to God in an attitude of reverent contemplation. We adore the glory of the divine vivifier, says one Vedic prayer. (3) Very common are prayers of thanksgiving, of gratitude for life, for friendships, for deliverance from hardship, for having achieved success in undertakings, and generally for anything the devotee thjnks comes from God. Prayers of thanks for joy in deliverance from sin or wrongdoing as well as any of life's blessings are pervasive. (4) We find also prayers of penitence and submission that are broader than requesting forgiveness. These reflect attitudes of humility, the cultivation of contrition, and the awakening of a sensibility toward sin, perhaps. Make me to know compunction, said the writer of the Imitation of Christ. In prayers of submission, some seek to recognize their place in the universe and resign themselves to Allah. (5) Prayers of communion and fellowship with the highest are also found. Here, a person develops attitudes of adoration but also possibly of friendship with the highest (in some faiths). The famous Frank Laubach, pioneer in teaching reading in undeveloped countries, honored on a US stamp, used to speak of the Game with Minutes: we should try to think of God each minute of the day as a divine companion. (6) Consider, too, prayers for special occasions, such as just before dying. Some Buddhists believe that as a person nears death prayer may make possible some power to control consciously the process of death and regeneration. Some believe in Bardo, the state intervening between death and rebirth into the next life. A person can then invoke the aid of Buddha in passing over from one life to the next. In some cases, lamas chant by relays all day and night in a prayer service to assist the spirit of the deceased to reach the Western paradise of Amitabha.8 A possible parallel exists with Extreme Unction in Roman Catholicism, which involves prayer for an easy passage to Purgatory. In prayers that seek to cultivate a feeling of communion, fellowship, and harmony with the divine being, we come close to what some call meditation. All religions are sensitive to the need to meditate, to reflect on the good and the source of the good. For theistic religions, the wonder and glory of God are contemplated. This occurs in Old Testament Psalms, in Ignatius Loyola, and in all Indian religions. A simple, straightforward difference exists between prayer and meditation, namely, that in prayer we address a being other than ourselves. As Martin Buber would say, a Thou exists whom I presumably contact in prayer and who presumably listens to what believers say. Meditation may well involve another being or beings, but it does not presume it. Thus, a religion that has no strong doctrine of a divine agency may still recommend meditating on the

Other Characteristic Problems

149

source of the good and contemplating the universe and life with a sense of reverent awe, but without addressing another. Meditation is one of the loftiest of religious experiences, usually requiring a disciplined mind that can shut out external influences -and concentrate on fulfillment or realization. Various techniques can be worked on to cultivate this high skill. Yogic practices, for example, have as their true aim full loss of individuality in concentration on the Supreme. Meditation is also a characteristic of the religious persons known as mystics. Mysticism, which cultivates meditation, is found in almost every religion, and it has been ably described by such persons as Evelyn Underhill. Those who meditate in a disciplined way often find more kinship with each other than with members of their own faith who do not grasp the centrality of meditation. 7. Further Observations on Prayer We must recognize that some serious religious believers do not think prayer is essential. For example, a learned representative of Theravadin Buddhism believes that in Buddhism "no prayer" exists in the commonly accepted sense of the word. Human beings are responsible only to themselves for their good or evil, happiness and misery, and to no other. The world does not depend for its progress or prosperity on any external agency.9 On the other hand, some thinkers reject the idea of God as a conscious intelligence but still find value in traditional prayer. Henry N. Wieman writes: Prayer or worship is a practice by which we endeavor to renew and deepen our commitment to put ourselves more completely under the control of what saves and transforms creatively. If we do this with a petition deep laid in the organization of personality, then the total self organized around this deep-laid striving of the petition is caught into the creative interchange with other people and into the creative transformation of self in community with them. . . . But when the personality is organized about the prayer, this petition becomes an ingredient in what undergoes creative transformation.10 8. Other Characteristic Problems Some prayers are routine or almost automatic, and when that is the case we may wonder about their religious value. The memorized, oft-repeated prayers of children come to mind, such as prayers at mealtime or bedtime. We find also memorized prayers of repentance and liturgical prayers that seem to be uttered without any thought in mind. They seem in violation of a genuine religious attitude, yet, like the oft-repeated mantras in Indian meditative exercises, they do have the practical benefit of focusing attention on religious themes. More

150


purposive and sincere prayers may then result. once the mental attitude is prepared by the rote repetition of words. The most mechanical of all prayers are those written on coils of paper and encased in cylinders to form prayer wheels among Tibetan Buddhists. The smaller ones, to be held in the hand, may be spun while walking or doing other things. Some prayer wheels are placed in streams, where they are turned by trickling water; others, as large as four feet by two feet in diameter, may encircle a temple—as in Kathmandu, Nepal—so that a devotee can give each cylinder a spin while walking by. Some Buddhists also have prayer flags that presumably do yeoman's work when windy. When prayer becomes so routinized and mechanical as to depend on wind or water, it scarcely indicates a genuine religious attitude, just as a fussy etiquette about national flags does not reflect true patriotism. Other questions arise when exploring the meaning of petitionary prayer. Evidently, some things may not and should not be prayed for. In 1648, Jeremy Taylor wrote in his Holy Living and Holy Dying that we must be careful never to "ask anything of God that is sinful, or that directly ministers to sin: for that is to ask God to dishonor himself and to undo us."" Thus, he adds, "whatsoever we may lawfully desire of temporal things we may lawfully ask of God in prayer."12 Peter Geach, a contemporary, echoes this view, observing that prayer would be senseless for a strict determinist: "We can sensibly pray only concerning future contingent issues, where things still can go either way."13 Accordingly, we might reasonably pray about a future contingency but to pray about sunsets and eclipses or planetary motions would be senseless. Nor can we pray for something not to have happened that has already happened. The ancient rabbis taught that we cannot pray that facts be not facts, that a letter already in the mail contain good news, or that a baby about to be born be of one sex or another. They also pointed out that someone hearing a fire alarm shall not pray, "May it be thy will that the conflagration be not in my home," for two reasons at least, said the rabbis: (1) "Such a prayer asks in effect that the misfortune befall another, which is immoral," and (2) "the fire is already where it is." To those who insisted and still do that prayers should be said facing in one direction—toward a holy city, the source of light—some rabbis pointed out that the light and splendor of the world (Shekhina) are everywhere and recommended doing away with fixed prayer-orientation. Some, even among the practicing clergy, have difficulty with intercessory prayers, which are by nature altruistic. They may be prayers for the welfare and benefit of those now living, either near or far, or they may be for the souls of the dead or possibly for babies not yet born. Prayers for the sick may readily be viewed as a kind of magic, if we do not ourselves do what we can to help the situation. And reminders such as "I'm praying for you" may become a form of patronizing. Intercessory prayer, which tends to take our responsibility away

More Problems Regarding Prayer

151

from doing our duty, seems questionable. I should not request that God do something for someone that I can do by myself. Douglas Steere remarks that intercessory prayer is a cooperating with God's already active redemptive powers to let them work in a given person, institution, or situation. It is a loving fellowship with them in the life of God that undergirds you both.15 H. H. Price has observed that in intercession, wellwishing means someone is on the lookout to help the person wished for. So intercessory prayers are then "a voluntary exercise in well-wishing." From a practical point of view, he adds: "A community of well-wishing persons is better than a community of mutually indifferent ones, where nobody takes any interest in the welfare of his neighbor."16 May'reasonable limits be set to such prayers? Some have suggested that intercessors' prayers are of no worth, but Thomas Merton once wrote in his Seven Storey Mountain regarding monks in a monastery: These men, hidden in the anonymity of their choir and their white cowls, are doing for their land what no army, no congress, no president could ever do as such; they are winning for it the grace and the protection and the friendship of God.17 Here, intercession obtains merit for others in a special way. Buddhists think that Bodhisattvas can do this for them. The effect of others praying has beneficial results on the ordinary believer, which relates to prayers to saints in Roman Catholicism. But for someone to tell another that he is being prayed for seems of doubtful merit, although it does show real concern to be told we are the object of love in this way. Some friends of President Calvin Coolidge once said, "We're praying for you," and Coolidge responded, "Which way?" 9. More Problems Regarding Prayer (1) What is the relation of prayer to the Supreme Being? If we hold that God is omniscient, then God knows in advance what we need, even knowing whether we will pray or not. So is prayer really meaningful? While believing in omniscience is typical, prayers that ask for something may have an effect on the one praying that makes things more possible. But even so, other types of prayer exist besides petitionary prayers—prayers of adoration, thanksgiving, and forgiveness that would be proper even if we had a strong belief in God's omniscience. (2) Can God hear so many prayers all at once? We may reasonably wonder whether God can heed the prayers of millions of people throughout the world, many of whom are praying simultaneously. Can the Supreme Being pay attention to the child in Brazil who asks that his sick mother be healed, while at

152


the same time a political leader in Great Britain is asking for divine guidance on some government decisions? This is a case of where the finite imagination is limited. If, as is generally held, God is infinite in wisdom and knows even when a sparrow falls, no issue exists at all. If a mother can distinguish the cries of her own children and minister to them severally and effectively, we need not suppose any problem for an infinite intelligence. But the philosophy of prayer is largely derived from the conception of God we have, and we may instructively ask what great religious teachers themselves—Moses, David, Mohammed, Jesus, Paul—have taught about prayer! (3) Does human prayer make any difference to God? Does it make more things possible that would not have been so had we not prayed? It surely makes the one who is praying more open, self-critical, and exploratory. Religious people regularly say: "Open mine eyes that I may see. Help me to be better than I am." The self-centered pleasure seeker simply does not engage in quests asking that he or she may come to understand what is personally best or best for family, friends, and country. Possibly, God can do more with and for a person who is open to sight, and desirous of the good, even as a symphony conductor can be more effective if the players give undivided attention and are not just counting time and playing notes. Price says that a fellowship of people praying and united for the good does make a difference. Even those who do not think of God as a conscious person will urge that prayer has the effect of setting our ideals before us with the consequent benefit of more likely achieving what we consciously desire. (4) Is prayer merely a type of auto-suggestion? Francis Crick, the famed molecular biologist, suggested in a 1970 interview that the principal effect of prayer is probably hormonal. This might be relevant if we thought that the only kind of prayer was petitionary. When we thank whatever powers exist for life's blessing, no chance of auto-suggestion exists. Critics of this sort have no grasp of the breadth of the religious person's prayer for life! (5) How does prayer work? Do not petitionary prayers seek to set aside natural laws? Are not prayers really asking for miracles? This depends in part on our view of God. Is God totally above nature, as the supernaturalistic deist says, or is God involved in the natural process? If above nature, then prayer may release possibilities not available before the praying. Accordingly, nature may work differently when purposes are introduced. Human beings can express purpose in a world of law, can use laws in a purposeful way, and God may respond to such purposes. On this matter of how prayer works, Price has drawn some useful analogies with telepathy: "If we sincerely place ourselves in this I-Thou relationship with God and make our requests to him, the very fact that we do so 'releases' paranormal forces of some kind, and these, in their turn bring about the result which we asked for."18

Objections to Prayer

153

Again, even if we ceased petitionary praying, other levels of praying remain unaffected. What of "answers" to prayer? Is the religious life of prayer to be regarded as meaningful if we pray regularly and never feel that our prayers are answered? Some piety says that every prayer is answered. Whatever happens to the praying person is always an answer from God. Prayers are sometimes covered by "if it be thy will," which means we are praying that God's will be done. This involves no falsifiability: all prayers are answered even if the results are not what we had seriously hoped for. But this is an unfair view. Can we, then, experiment with prayer to see whether it "works" or is "answered"? Some have actually tried experiments, praying for one set of plants to grow well and not praying for another set.19 In the last century, some scientists seeking to show up difficulties in the religious life proposed a "prayer test." Patients in one hospital ward were to be prayed for and patients in another not. After a time, so the claim went, we should be able to see whether prayers for the sick were efficacious. Not only did this idea, and ones like it, border on what religious people would call blasphemy (giving detailed instructions and putting requirements on the deity) but it would be an experiment without controls. Daily prayers are offered up for the sick by loyal people throughout the world. -No one would exclude some hospital ward from petitions just to satisfy the experimental curiosity of some skeptical scientists. But to discuss answers one way or another is irrational. First, prayer is not only asking, as we see in the familiar Lord's Prayer. Second, what constitutes an answer—the return of a son safely from a battlefield, restored health? Too many particular prayers of this sort are specifically looked at, not answered. We may better ask whether the life of the praying person and the lives of those prayed for are generally better in some way. Has the life of prayer issued, empirically, in any discernible way that is different from the life of a nonpraying individual? Is the human experience of the praying person richer, broader, deeper, or more humane and kind than before? The "answer" to prayer may be the enriched life of the person instead of a singular effect. This would apply to all kinds of prayer. Thus, we could say that prayer may well be a life experiment, regarding what overall beneficial results can possibly occur. What, then, is the religious goal of prayer? Is it to deepen and strengthen the best in the self and in the community? Is it to increase sensitivity to other human beings and living things? Does it free us from the shallow concerns of mere immediacy and life to other heights of creativity, ethically and artistically? 10. Objections to Prayer Prayer may be a mark of human immaturity, a way to escape responsibility, or it could be a psychological crutch. But to make that judgment, we must look at the life of praying people throughout history. All religions have built a chain of

154


prayer across the years. We should ask such persons to step forward and call the roll, announcing their claims. We should seriously examine the claims of persons such as Abraham, Moses, David, Jesus, Saint Paul, Mohammed, Mahatnia Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Jr., Abraham Lincoln, and many others. Most critics are simply untutored in historic facts and claims and fasten on a "specialist" view. Some of the greatest leaders of the human race in all climes and periods have been praying people. Their prayers have helped found hospitals and universities, some of which may now teach that prayer is useless and immature. In short, the actual claims of human beings must be checked. We may not merely consider conceptual and logical difficulties. We leave it to the reader to judge who is more mature, a mindless devotee of gourmet food, drink, and the gaming table, or someone who helps the oppressed, overcomes prejudice, points to higher human creativity, or gives himself or herself to causes for others. To suggest that only immature people pray, that prayer is a mere mitfK that the fund of human experience it draws on for the last 3,000 to nothing is neither honest nor fair. In his Crown of Wild Olivi wrote: "One hour in the execution of justice is worth seventy ye But people who do pray for twenty, thirty, forty, or fifty years m acts of justice than those who do not pray. Rauschenbusch says: ' what a place this earth would be if all the force that has been spe gymnastics had been put into righting wrong."20 Someone may, furthermore, object that prayer is a m< suggestion without any external relation or impact. This objecti some but not all types of prayer. And yet, we should not unde impact of prayer in general. Prayer may be an occasion in whid healthy self-examination, being not merely a kind of request, bargain but a moment of self-clarification, spiritual enlightenme growth.

Eight CLAIMS ABOUT HOW A PERSON SHOULD LIVE Whether we have grown up in a religious tradition or have consciously adopted one faith in preference to another, all serious, earnest believers feel themselves to be under obligations as a consequence of their beliefs. These obligations may be and are usually viewed as manifest indications of religious identity. The range of obligations moves from those that are uniquely ritualistic or ceremonial to those that relate to the moral life and, in some instances, to social organization and political life. In trying to evaluate the significance or worth of claims about how we should live, I will consider how topics of philosophical worth might arise. I note first some traits of the religious obligations placed upon devotees and then I discuss the moral requirements. 1. Religious Demands The kind of demands placed on followers vary in level, degree, and kind. We may think of them as organizational, ritualistic, ceremonial, ecclesiastical, or social duties. The first sort of duties bear on normal human experiences of birth, adolescence, coming of age, marriage, parenthood, old age, and death. Not one religion currently practiced in the world does not prescribe requirements for these normal human experiences. We find striking similarities as well as wide differences. Infants are variously recognized by the religious communities as dedicated or baptized. In the Jewish and Muslim traditions, circumcision of male infants is a standard requirement in the earliest days. Ceremonies of these kinds are done in the presence of recognized members of the religious community or clergy. Many religions require periods of training or trial for adolescents. Roman Catholics lay great stress on a child's "First Holy Communion," which might occur fairly early. Others require periods of instruction and discipline before young persons are "confirmed" or come of age in the Bar Mitzvah or Bat Mitzvah ceremonies. Parsees have similar public ceremonies for youngsters. And in some Buddhist homes, to teach young boys—perhaps age seven—to emulate mendicants is typical. Heads are shaven and the little boys are provided with begging bowls. Across the world in every religious group, including preliterate cultures, rites connected with puberty are widespread and often place exceptional demands on twelve or thirteen year olds. Marriage ceremonies are usually even more complicated and demanding. In the Hindu tradition of arranged marriages, ceremonies must be performed

156

CLAIMS ABOUT HOW.ARERSON SHOULD LIVE

only at auspicious times, times decided by astrologers,, and the rituals may last as long as two weeks. In the Western traditions, we see the customary elaborate church or synagogue weddings, but in each case few specific ceremonial requirements exist other than having a member of the clergy solemnize the occasion. In older periods, weddings not solemnized in the presence of clergy were not recognized. In some religious traditions, polygamy is still practiced. Widespread among practicing Muslims, especially the more orthodox, a current practice suggests that four wives might be acceptable provided-that each is treated equally. More liberal Muslims argue that since no man can really treat each of the four wives with equanimity, the policy is a tacit approval of monogamy. Using the Old Testament as its justification, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints for a time permitted polygamy, though reportedly only three percent of the Utah Mormons practiced it. Interestingly, a revelation against the practice of polygamy was given to the leader (Prophet) of the Mormon church on 6 October 1890, just about three years after the Edmunds Act of 1887 became law. This law decreed that anyone who practiced polygamy could not be a citizen of the United States. This is not the place to go into detailed accounts of practices of this sort, but to note the actual tensions that arise between some apparent religious requirements about marriage and human nonreligious ethical insight is highly instructive. This is especially the case regarding divorce. Thus, if we view marriage as a holy event, as a sacrament, divorce would be impossible, for we cannot undo a sacrament. Ecclesiastical rigidity on such matters has led to strained legalistic alternatives and raised serious social and ethical questions. Should a marriage that has failed for whatever reason be maintained under any condition simply because a church demands it? Are divorced persons to be denied ritualistic advantages, such as not being allowed within a holy place or altar? In the Muslim tradition, divorce could be initiated by the male alone. Women often suffered, especially in property settlements, and all with religious sanction. At points like this, normal human ethical insights are violated and society has judged critically the rigorous and, in some eyes, the inhuman practices that were seen as religious duties. Parental obligations and family duties are given a high place in all religions, for the family is often taken as the core and foundation of the religious community. But the Chinese and Jewish traditions place great emphasis on this. For Confucius, "filial piety" was the stellar virtue. Respect for the elders was a sacred virtue. One of the commandments of Judaism requires, "Honor thy father and thy mother." Current practice in the Western world almost systematically ignores this, though in religious households the tendency is the other way. Requirements surrounding death are of profound significance. In socalled primitive cultures, death may be viewed as a kind of pollution from which remaining family members must be cleansed. All religions have funeral

Religious Demands

157

ceremonies. The most depraved one was, up until 1830, the requirement that orthodox Hindu wives be required to throw themselves on the funeral pyres of their dead husbands (called suttee), since with the loss of the husband the widow had no status. Even to this day in orthodox Hindu circles, widows are given a low status, sometimes have their heads ritualistically shaved, may not eat at the family table when guests are present, and the like. I can find little in moral reasoning that would justify such treatment of individuals, but underlying traditional and social factors may, no doubt, be found. Indeed, one of the sorriest things about traditional religious requirements is their view of the role and place of women. With few exceptions, religions have been initiated, fostered, propagated, and maintained by men. Religious language is male-oriented. Little in these matters can be called ethical or logical, and much has been dastardly and cruel, enough to turn people away from all religion and toward humanism. But we must recall that the very raising of the status of women has also been a function of religious leaders. In the Shinto tradition, the chief deity Amaterasu, is viewed as female, and the founders of some Shinto sects like Tenri Kyo have been women. The adoration of the Virgin Mary in some forms of Christianity may be seen as an effort to elevate the status of women, but Roman Catholicism does not allow women priests as of this writing. In the Hindu orthodoxy, the female consort of Shiva (Kali, Parvati, and others) is almost on a par and is widely revered, as is Lakshmi, the wife of Vishnu, in herself and in her reincarnations as Sita. When we explore current claims about the requirements for the clergy, we find also some striking parallels and similarities, suggesting that psychological and historical factors are involved more than rationality. Strictly speaking, no clergy exist as such in the great Muslim tradition, though we find Imams, Ayatollahs, and Mullahs. Celibacy is not enjoined. Many practicing Hindu priests may be married, but those who have striven from the earliest days to be holy men or sannyasin are celibate, a status viewed as somehow higher and making for greater possibilities of spirituality. Jain priests of the Digambara Order are celibate, as are Jain nuns. No such requirements exist in Taoism, Confucianism, or Shintoism. Similarly, celibacy is not required or even desired among Jewish rabbis or Zoroastrians, Sikhs, and Buddhists. Buddhist monks are often celibate, but when it comes to the Christian tradition, celibacy becomes a lively issue. Those entering the Roman Catholic priesthood must take the vow of celibacy, and those in the Eastern Orthodox churches who are ordained as priests may not marry after ordination but may be married beforehand. For Anglo-Catholics and Protestants, celibacy is irrelevant. But an understandable rational justification exists for celibacy if we examine the ethical virtues stressed by Saint Thomas Aquinas and earlier indicated by Aristotle. Aristotle taught that both moral virtues and intellectual virtues exist. Not all could achieve the intellectual virtues. Aquinas added holiness or sanctity to the virtues; thus, we can speak of moral virtues, intellectual virtues,

158

CLAIMS ABOUT HOW. A RERSON SHOULD LIVE

and saintliness. Few can attain the intellectual virtues and fewer still the saintly ones. Thus, some persons should be allowed to be contemplative, to see what the highest type of spiritual life might be. Thus, celibacy is claimed to make possible the highest human spiritual development. Not everyone can attain such status, but perhaps some should be allowed the opportunity to climb the spiritual heights by this limitation on normal biological urges.,.Thomas Merton suggested this when he wrote: Simply that the monk in hiding himself from the world becomes not less himself, not less of a person, but more of a person, more truly and perfectly himself, for his personality and individuality are perfected in their true order, the spiritual interior order, of union with God, the principle of all perfection.' Mahatma Gandhi came around to a similar view in his own thinking. A married man himself, he thought that spirituality could be attained by renouncing the sex interest. He asked his followers, particularly those who would be Satyagrahis, to practice brahmacharya. Even now, orthodox Hindu males who have attained the age of sixty may choose to take sannyasin, that is, to renounce the world by leaving aside wife and family to pursue a life of spiritual cultivation in their remaining days. Now, some deeper issues exist here, the first of which has to do with the view of the sexual relationship implied. Some Christians, Hindus, and Jains take the view that something about the sex drive is intrinsically harmful. It may not be wrong in itself as far as the need to propagate the race is concerned, but it is a limiting factor in the development of true spirituality. It needs to be shunned, repressed, or kept under the strictest control. But we may well wish to challenge the underlying assumptions of celibate practices that have had such an effect in parts of the world. Do those seeking spiritual bliss or the highest human achievement have the right to say that this can be found only in meditative isolation or solitary contemplation as Merton claims? Can monastic segregation be an end in itself? How can a person who has renounced normal human urges, who has nevej taken the responsibility of family life, achieve a higher spirituality than one who as a member of a community grows and shares his or her life with others in mutual efforts at growth and fulfillment? Zoroastrians, Jews, Muslims, and almost half of the Christians in the world think that isolated spirituality is a false or truncated spirituality, since only in the community does the individual find fulfillment. We take as heroes of the human race, not those who have spent their lives in contemplation, but those who have contributed to justice, equality, and peace in the world. Perhaps celibacy in a Gandhi releases energies that would not have been so had he paid more attention to his faithful wife, Kasturba, and to his son. Nevertheless, if a person does not have the burden of day-to-day familial responsibility, perhaps he or she can do more for the uplift of humankind by giving themselves in an

Religious Demands

159

utterly dedicated life of service. Consider the examples of Saint Vincent de Paul and Mother Teresa. These are spiritual heroes, but can we claim that celibacy was the sine qua non of their lives? In addition to regulations regarding sex, some religions make much of holy days and seasons. The Judeo-Christian tradition is perhaps unique here, because of all the world religions it sets aside one day a week as a holy day commanded by God. The fourth commandment of the Mosaic Decalogue enjoins: "Remember the Sabbath Day to keep it holy. Six days shalt thou labor and do all thy work: but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord thy God: in it thou shalt not do any work . . ." (Exod. 20:8-11). While Muslims meet regularly on one day of a week at least, it is not regarded as a holy day. Other religions have holy days, seasons, or festivals. The Jews have "high holy days" in which they commemorate their traditions or cultivate atonement. Christians traditionally have the season of Lent, coming before the Easter celebration. It is as long as the Muslim holy period of Ramadan, namely, forty days. No comparable requirements exist in Hinduism, but they do have their annual festivals during which stores and government offices may be closed. One Jain festival takes place every ten years. Some Hindu festivals are decided by the seasons, eclipses, and planetary patterns. Only one religion makes a fundamental religious duty of a pilgrimage, namely, the Muslim requirement to visit Mecca either in person once in a lifetime or at least by proxy by contributing to another's pilgrim journey. Most religions have shrines, but only the Muslim makes it a specific religious duty to visit one.'In India, almost every mountaintop or bend.of a river or .conjunction of rivers is associated with some theophany, and consequently many holy places exist in India (Hinduism seems tied to India for this reason). - As to sacred places, to note which are open and which are closed to nonbelievers is instructive. A non-Parsee may not enter a Zoroastrian Fire Temple; non-Hindus may not visit specific holy places within temple compounds; non-Muslims are not permitted to visit the Kaaba in the period of Hajj. But the precincts of other religions are not so safeguarded, except that non-Mormons cannot enter the temple in Salt Lake City, for example. For a time, Roman Catholics were forbidden to enter Protestant churches. Different religions have some interesting,, even striking, rules regarding various actions. For example, various personal prerequisites to worship exist in sundry religions—ceremonial regulations that perhaps have more psychological than philosophical interest. In warmer climates, considerable fuss is made about removing shoes and stockings before entering shrines, mosques, or temples. Muslim devotees must wash their feet or, if in dry places, clean them with sand. Hindus, Jains, and Buddhists require shoe removal, but Sikhs will allow stockings if they are new. In the Christian tradition, men perforce remove hats, and until recently women were expected—especially in the Catholic and East Orthodox tradition—to cover their heads. In the Jewish tradition, male worshipers are expected to wear hats or a yarmulke. These are small matters,

160

CLAIMS ABOUT HOW A PERSON SHOULD LIVE

but they indicate that we must openly recognize that worship is special, not just an ordinary thing. Other ceremonial requirements exist in addition to applications of holy water or foot cleansing. A Parsee priest once refused to greet me by shaking hands because he said that if he were to continue to conduct the ceremonies of the day, touching a non-Parsee would require total bathing purification by complete washing. Roman Catholics are usually expected not to eat before taking the sacrament of the Eucharist and are uniformly required to go to confession beforehand. The same applies to East Orthodox Christians. Pollution is a worry of some religions. Should a menstruating woman enter a shrine in a Hindu household, the whole room must be washed. Zoroastrian priests attending the sacred flames in Parsee Fire Temples must wear masks over their mouths so the holy flame will not be polluted. Should someone spend an hour reading sections of the Book of Leviticus in the Hebrew Scriptures, they would find an extended list of prohibitions and ceremonial duties—not only about worship but also about daily routines, marriage relationships, and proper and improper food, as well as extensive regulations about the Sabbath. Similar materials are in the' Hindu Laws of Manu, which give caste regulations, now illegal, but still honored in contemporary Hindu practice. When studying the complicated rituals, repositive requirements, and proscriptions that surround actual religious practices, two things are striking: first, the remarkable similarities of certain practices, and, second, the apparent triviality of most of the requirements. If we were to argue that religions are all the same, we could offer support that they are, at least historically, in the kind and type of regulations some require. Some practices among the nonliterate religions are often strikingly parallel, especially as regards the need for purification rites after deaths, births, marriages, taboo violations, the presence of strangers, and the like. To study religion at the level of actual living behavior patterns, noting regulations, is to become involved in often dismal, sometimes aberrant, and usually inexplicable materials. In his "What Is Religion," Leo Tolstoy refers to the "spiritual condition of a Russian peasant who would rather die than spit out the sacrament on a manure-heap, but who yet, at the command of men, is ready to kill his brothers."~ This example leads us to recognize that while ceremonies and other regulations—which seem initially petty—are to be found, we also find vigorous criticisms of such practices within the context of particular religions. Thus, thinkers in the prophetic movement in Hinduism such as Shankara, Ramanuja, Madhva, and later Ramakrishna challenged the near obsession practicing Hindus had with minor details, while overlooking consequently the spiritual and moral life of the people. This is also the case in the evolution of Judaism. From a religion of regulations, which Yahweh seems to have decreed, Judaism moved from a religion of ceremony to one of ethical monotheism

Religious Demands

161

under the teaching and leadership of the eighth-century prophets and others who spoke out against the ceremonialists and those who were fussy about seemingly nonessential details of daily life. Amos typifies them, but two verses in the Book of Micah sum up the tension created by the prophetic movement: Will the Lord be pleased with thousands of rams, with ten thousands of rivers of oil? Shall I give my first-born for my transgression, the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul? He has showed you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God. (Mic. 6:7-8) What the journalistic and "outside" critics of religion do not see and, indeed, seem constitutionally incapable of seeing is that most religions have leaders and spokespersons who oppose exclusivism, rigidity, and regulations for their own sakes. In the nine religions with personal founders, note that the founders usually commence their work by challenging and attacking practices of their inherited tradition. Zoroaster did this and so did Jesus, Mohammed, and Guru Nanak. Lao Tzu, the reputed founder of Taoism, objected to anything that took persons away from spirituality. Confucius similarly taught a religion of broad principles, opposing legalism and ceremonialism. Mahavira, the founder of Jainism, was a vigorous opponent of Hindu practices such as the caste system and animal sacrifice. Gautama Buddha similarly opposed caste, the priestly class, and the low position of women. If we were to regard Moses as the founder of Judaism, a comparable case could be .made.- Neither Shintoism nor Hinduism had single founders, but in both traditions, especially Hinduism, striking individual teachers and leaders arose who opposed pettiness and fussiness. Though Shintoism is still largely a religion of staid ceremony, various sect founders such as Nakayama Mikki, founder of the Tenri Kyo sect, have modified past practices, insisting that salvation depends on sincerity of heart/ While a kind of internal cleansing has taken place historically among all eleven literate religions, ceremonialism, ritual, and even legalistic fussiness still abound throughout the world. It reasserts itself in spite of criticism and denials. Today's religious devotees have often reverted to a concern for ceremonial behavior that the prophets and founders would have scorned. But perhaps to have a religion that gives specific duties is easier than one that requires independent ethical insight. Yet, we do find in thriving religions today a continued tension between the doers of details and the proponents of spiritual and ethical development. The larger philosophical issue is to try to decide what best characterizes religion normatively. To me, ethical obligation seems prior to religion and religions must be judged on ethical grounds. The conscience must be appealed to as we try to justify rationally a set of religious beliefs. But if we survey details of rituals and the like for the past two thousand years and more, we are quickly motivated to take up the psychological quest,

162


for so little may be regarded as rational and thoughtful in the practices observed. Francis Huxley has provided an illustrated and fascinating study of rites, symbols, beliefs, and taboos people have held in awe and wonder through the ages in his The Way of the Sacred. The evidence of oddity, eccentricity, and even dementia that he provides is almost overpowering. Yet, we can push such studies too far and become so engrossed in giving interpretations for bizarre behavior and strange requirements that we carry that over into the matter of serious belief claims, trying also to explain those psychologically. For my purpose, to ask questions such as the following is more instructive: Is a Supreme Being worthy of worship when it demands child sacrifice, widow immolation, or the overt killing of unbelievers? Is such a being worthy of worship who puts ceremonial purity and food regulations above the demand that human beings be kind to each other? Is a religion that sanctifies places and days and objects as valuable as one that values persons over them? And the list could go on. Seemingly, if the so-called object of worship places demands on followers that go against normal human kindness—the mutual affection of parent and child, primary biological needs, human communication, and equal treatment of male and female, old and young, black and white—such a being is not worthy of attention and should be shunned. In short, if religious practice makes human beings worse than they were before they adopted the religion, if it promotes and exacerbates the very problems and anxieties it is supposed to alleviate, to have done with it is better. The thoughtful conscience rises.up and rejects such things. We think quickly of witch-burnings, the Inquisition, the burning of heretics, the angry desire to execute "infidel dogs," and the compounded cruelties of crusades and wars, killings among rival sects, and the endless squabbles, appearing more in religions of the Near East than any place else. 2. Ethical Demands When we distinguish the typically religious demands placed upon religious persons from the ethical demands, we may find some differences as to importance. What I am asking here is the question of general moral behavior, not closely linked to actual religious practices but characteristic of requirements laid upon those who intend to be or claim to be followers of a particular faith. A number of theoretical questions quickly arise that need to be thought about, but I shall postpone those for a bit. Ethical demands usually associated with religious practices vary a great deal from religion to religion and, interestingly, within particular religions. One claim often made is that moral and social laws are ordained or ordered by the Supreme Being, perhaps being either "revealed" to God's spokespersons in the past or in the present or shown in holy writings. This is surely the case in the so-called Western religions. Ahura Mazda of the Parsees places moral standards before his followers. In Judaism, the idea of God as the giver of moral law is

Ethical Demands

163

profoundly important, seen not only in the Ten Commandments, but in later prophetic utterances that call people away from ceremonial details to a higher morality. A similar but not so stalwart emphasis is found in Christianity, in which actions are to be evaluated in the light of the ideal of the Kingdom of God. Muslims, perhaps more than others, respect the divinely ordered moral commands found in the Koran. Some go so far as to fashion contemporary political institutions and government policies on the Koran's instructions. Sikhs also find divine sanction for their ethical ideals and some, such as Muslims, see the basis for a new society, even a new nation in the writings and tradition of Sikhism. In the Taoist tradition, though lacking in explicit moral principles, we find the general injunction that no one should emulate the Tao itself, the divine principle. And while Confucius did not have much of a theology, he did determine that Heaven put specific demands on those who sought to live the most noble life. With the other religions, the issue is a bit more complex. Ethical teachings clearly exist in Hinduism, but they are not viewed as the serious commands of the One, since Brahman-Atman is above time, history, and ordinary human events. But for those who are devoted to the popular deities Shiva and Vishnu, moral requirements seem implied. Gandhi thought that his idea of soul-force (Satyagraha) was a principle grounded in the very nature of reality. Traditional Buddhism reserves a high place for morality. A person cannot undertake the steps toward enlightenment until they have mastered fundamental moral principles. But such moral duties are not connected with any divine decrees. The openly atheistic Jains do have rigorous moral requirements as part of their tradition—notably the principle of noninjury (ahimsa)—but again, morality is not dependent on theology. Similarly, though the gods of Shintoism require specific actions, no strong or clear doctrme suggests that moral duties flow out of religious belief. Within the religions mentioned, some individual teachers and interpreters try to divorce ethics and religion, holding that if a person is properly following the faith, the moral life is either irrelevant or will take care of itself. The statement of Saint Augustine expresses this view to a degree: "Love God and do as you please." And by that he maintained that our actions would be ethically worthwhile simply because we were attuned to God. The Danish theologian Soren Kierkegaard spoke of a "teleological suspension of ethics," holding that religious salvation is on a higher plane than ethics, and ethics is not of primary importance. This accords with the extreme but not wholly characteristic view of Saint Paul that righteousness is as filthy rags. A similar theme has been picked up by Calvinists and those in the Christian tradition who were called "Antinomians." They held that the Christian need not be bound by any moral law. That position was voiced quite early and has recurred. In the fourteenth century, some professed to have union with God "which rendered yielding to the impulses of the flesh a matter of moral indifference." This

164


position has never been in the ascendancy in Christianity or any theistic religion. Indifference to morality has occurred in Zen Buddhism, however. Edward Conze made the remark that such meditative Buddhism implied that we need not adhere to minor prescriptions of discipline "and thus cultivated a moral indifference which enables it to fall in with the derfiands of Japanese militarism."4 The philosophical issues arising out of this question are intriguing and controversial. I have briefly noted the general position of the eleven major religions on the question of ethics. While Calvin and Kierkegaard do not think of morality as a matter of indifference, they do subordinate it to religious faith. The moral life may develop as a consequence of an initially adopted faith, but morality is in no way consonant with faith or leads to it. Immanuel Kant, also largely within the Western Judeo-Christian tradition, said that we should treat moral duties as divine commands, that the moral life was autonomous and might or might not lead us to religious faith. This tension has three levels. The first is the theoretic one that asks about the relation of ethics to the deity. The second seeks to characterize the individual person's attitude to faith and to morality, the one claiming that faith must be first and from it flows morality, the other saying that whether we have faith or not, we cannot hope to achieve it if we have no sense of morality. (This leads, as I said in Chapter Five, to the moral argument for God, which would be anathema to Calvinists.) A third level of the tension, and in some ways the most important, tries to cope with those within a single faith who have striking contradictions on what faith requires ethically. Across the world, the dominant view is that we cannot be truly religious without evincing some moral character. Simple moral requirements such as honesty, respect for another's property, or chastity are clearly requisites if we are to follow the path of yoga or if we are to begin the Eightfold Path of Buddhism. Without elementary moral control, no chance exists for spiritual fulfillment. The only ones who really oppose such a view are the Antinomians in the Christian tradition, some religious existentialists, extreme NeoCalvinists, and a few Zen Buddhists. In all other traditions, the seeking after righteousness is a prime requirement. In the Hebrew Scriptures we read: "Righteousness exalteth a nation," and that the highest goal of a good Jew is to delight in the law of the Lord. Jesus praised those who "hungered and thirsted after righteousness" and required his followers to "seek first the Kingdom of God and its righteousness." The difficulties begin when we interpret what righteousness means. Is it the fulfilling of detailed rules of conduct or is it guiding our life by broad principles? What rules and what principles? How are they to be implemented? The disagreements here seem almost insurmountable; the clashes within some religions are not only disturbing but sometimes bitter and in the past even violent. A minority of Muslims understand Allah's will to be that they take hostages, bomb evil doers, and fight a holy war, while the majority of Muslims

Ethical Demands

165

oppose such things, also in the name of the Koran. (The recent war between Iran and Iraq was a chilling example.) A Muslim such as the late Badshah Khan espoused nonviolence of the Gandhi type and spent most of his life in prison. In Judaism and in Christianity, we have wide gaps in interpretation and practice that have been going on for centuries. One hundred and fifty years ago, some Christians favored slavery in the United States and others fought it. Denominations such as the Baptists divided into Southern and Northern branches. The early settlers in the United States committed genocide against native Americans partly in the name of religion. Spanish conquerors in Mexico and Central America slaughtered aborigines in the name of presenting salvation to the natives. In South Africa recently, some in the government viewed Apartheid as sanctioned by Holy Writ, while others, motivated by the selfsame Scriptures struggled defiantly against it. The same is the case with issues like war, abortion, homosexuality, euthanasia, and economic matters. Similarly, some Jews and Christians view Marxism as utterly base, godless, and sinful. Others, including those now called "liberation theologians," find that despite Marxism's implicit and unacceptable atheism, its analysis of socioeconomic conditions in today's world—especially unjust and oppressive conditions—is of high relevance for their religious understanding of social morality. With such diverse and competing claims among religions, and, more seriously, within the same religion, what are we to think? How can the dilemmas and contradictions be solved short of abandoning the whole of religion as a jungle of tangled and chaotic ideas, some worthwhile, some devilish. The historical information is that theological and philosophical interpreters began their work of figuring out the ethical and social implications of their respective religions from the earliest times. Seemingly, they did not agree on any practical moral questions, although Cecil Cadoux has argued that the early Christians agreed that soldiering was always wrong, a belief held until the time of Constantine. "Liberals" and "conservatives," heretics and true believers were present from the earliest times. The effort to claim purity, originality, and proximity to the truth was an early concern. Some tried to discern the quintessential earliest teachings—the kerygma—as if discovery of that would be a self-authenticating criterion of what was right and wrong. Primarily in the Near Eastern faiths we have fuming about heresies and stalwart claims to have discovered the "original" view instead of discussing carefully the present-day competing claims. Since learned and disciplined exponents of a religion have differed in the past and do in fact disagree now on the meaning of what is moral, we evidently have to decide on grounds other than authority or tradition what the moral demands of a religion are, even if none exist at all. In short, we must employ the same or similar tools that were used in the earliest time to work out the moral implications of a faith. If the disagreement were philosophical at base, rather than psychological or political, as many of them seem to have been, then

166


through reason and the enlightened conscience we will be able to determine today what a religion's moral message is. But this is a difficult undertaking, and the usual thing is to seek an authoritative interpretation that has an air of finality about it. Appeals are made to the founder's own words, to ancient scriptural passages; or to community traditions. But, again, interpretations even of those things abound. Within two centuries after the prophet's death, four differing schools on how to interpret Islamic law arose among the Sunni division of Islam—the Hanifite, the Malachite, the Shafiite, and the Hanbalite. For but one eenter of authority to exist that would have the final say on moral matters for a religion so that internal bickering and disagreeable tensions could be put to rest would, I suppose, be highly desirable. Thus, we have a figure such as the Pope, who can speak with infallible authority on matters of faith and morals. While even under a Pope, minor reinterpretations are allowable, his authority leaves no room for debate on basic moral principles. The Pope's claims to Authority are not private, but traceable in a reputedly direct, linear way to the very founder of the religion itself. The practical benefits of this solution within Roman Catholicism are obvious. Devotees ill-equipped by learning, experience, or mental power can have the assurance that the moral demands laid upon them are indeed the only right and proper ones. No more arguments are necessary. The tangled web of subjective whims and mere personal opinions has been overcome. In recent years, however, papal authority on matters of celibacy and birth control has had its challenges. We find striking examples in other religious groups of the appeal to a single person or body of tradition to establish solutions to moral problems. In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints we find a current recognized prophet who is the ultimate judge on such matters. Iranian Shiism has the Ayotollah, and some branches of Tibetan Buddhism have virtual popes, as in the Caodaist Church in Vietnam. Possibly, the highest thought we have about what is morally right in any religious tradition may be akin to what the Supreme One of the universe requires of us. Or to say it more piously for Western faiths, what God requires of us cannot go against the best that we self-critically know. Our highest thought, as long as it remains self-critical and seeking, must have some relation to the moral governance of the universe, else our reason and experience count for nought and we as distinct human beings amount to nothing. While some believers might claim that human beings are nothing, the practical result oTthat position is intellectual and moral chaos. Evidently, then, religions on their own cannot provide self-evident or certain moral laws independent of examination by the enlightened conscience and reason. The moment one party claims it has such absolute clarity on moral matters, another party arises with a counterclaim, and tensions arise within the confines of our own hallowed tradition. Religions that do not have a single authoritative figure often make claims not to an infallible living person but to an allegedly infallible book, such as the

Ethical Demands

167

Bible or the Koran. But such appeals, no matter how well intended, do nothing more than restate the question of authority. Christian, Jewish, and Muslim literalists or fundamentalists still disagree widely, and even wildly, on moral matters. We get into an almost endless harangue over the meaning of specific passages, with no solution at all, just more of the same clash, often acrimonious and always divisive, if not inflammatory. Spokespersons claiming to have the final view pop up everywhere. Those with money and who are attractive to journalists are usually accorded more publicity than they deserve. The number is virtually endless, while the clarity and intelligence are minimal. No way seems to exist short of reason and the enlightened conscience to solve the complexities of the moral demands of a religion. Unfortunately, the quest for some sort of authority and the desire to get back to the "original teaching" are pursued with little trust in rationality. Nevertheless, we must concede that we may at least find some value in the deposit of moral insight that has accumulated in a given religious tradition. Notable religious leaders and teachers and interpreters of scriptures offer candidates for moral principles that make an appeal to reason. They offer insights and institutions that do sometimes appeal to the moral conscience. Think of the philosopher Hastings Rashdalls's Conscience and Christ, which tries to show that the justification for Christian ethics is its fundamental appeal to the enlightened conscience. Some of the highest moral insights of humankind have come from religious traditions, but they are not selfvalidating. We do not know that religion provides more motivation for moral behavior than any other human experience. It normally provides inspiration for a person to do better than he or she is doing, and it often stimulates heroic selfgiving service in places and toward people who are ordinarily overlooked. Plain historical fact shows that work for the poor and depressed, the ugly, the leprous, and the dying springs from a religious motivation to be of altruistic assistance to those in need. Such a sense of moral compulsion that issues in action is a continuing enigma for those "outsiders" who have never taken any religion seriously. We may safely say that what characterizes a genuinely religious person who is truly committed and in some way devout (not merely an incidentally or nominally religious person) is that they try to be better; they are seriously interested in what they must do and how they may live the best possible life. Sikhs are enjoined to be "like God," while Christians sing such songs as, "Open my eyes that I may see" or "I want a principle within," and some wish to be "more like the Master." Similar interest in doing better in intending to lead a better life is found throughout the world. A religious person will usually listen to alternatives if seriously offered and an irreligious person is normally indifferent to developing a moral life or in being self-critical. To put it another way, no truly religious person is morally self-satisfied. When religion is regarded as the organizing principle of life, as the center around which all experience and culture radiates, no facet or aspect of human

168


experience can be totally removed from it without difficulty. The seriously religious person makes a total commitment and, thus, he or she not only views things from a religious perspective but tries to relate daily practice to religious principles, programs, and ideals. Obviously, religion taken in this sense is relevant to the broader social, political, and economic behavior patterns and structures of our world. If, however, religion is seen not as a form of total commitment but as an occasional aspect or desirable quality, an additive to human experience, evidently the relevance of religion for political and social life will be minor. Accordingly, the view we take of religion's role in society, politics, economics, and government depends primarily on our comprehension of what religion itself is all about. Perhaps no question in the area of religious thought is more vexed than that of the proper relation between religion and politics. Vast differences exist in policies and in practice, and these differences in turn are directly related to the meaning of religion itself. It is well-known that in both theory and practice, Marxism-Leninism has taken a negative view of religion and its role in society, to the point not only of theoretically denouncing it as a form of oppression against people but also of denouncing it practically and, in many places, declaring its practice illegal. On the presumed grounds of enlightened social and historical understanding of the world, religion was felt to serve no positive role. Indeed, it could be seen as a drag on human development or as an opiate, a mode of activity that kept people from enlightenment and the finest kind of human existence. The most extreme view was that the only proper thing to do was to extirpate religion from human life if that life were to obtain its highest fulfillment. The political and social structures were to be purged of religion at every level. And, as is well-known, some of the magnificent cathedrals in the former Soviet Union were turned into museums of atheism, as in Leningrad. We should not use the designations A.D. or B.C. in dating historic events because they give tacit acceptance to the importance of religion. Note how this Marxist-Leninist doctrine was modified for purely practical advantages during World War II. In the hardest times of that war, Stalin came to realize that religious attitudes, sincerity, and motivation could be a useful tool in promoting national unity and in rallying the people to fight better, produce more, and endure hardships more willingly. The museum at the Russian Orthodox Seminary in Zagorsk, just outside of Moscow, houses photographs of Stalin and the head of the Russian Orthodox Church, as well as a plaque from Stalin commending the religious body for its role in helping to unite the Soviet people and win the war. A theoretically denounced institution became practically beneficial, and dogma was temporarily set aside for political advantage. We cannot but wonder: Why should a genuine religious feeling, a feeling grounded in a belief in God, be the basis of a moral obligation to pursue love and justice with spiritual vigor, faith, and hope? Does such a feeling reveal a fundamental truth about human nature, human life, and the scheme of nature?

Ethical Demands

169

What is significant about religious faith is not merely its elaborate metaphysical claims but the practical value of these claims: Can they guide human beings in their continual effort to grow in truth, beauty, freedom, and happiness? Success in achieving these goals is the ultimate criterion in evaluating the validity of religious claims.

Nine RELIGIOUS CLAIMS ABOUT THE PERSON The eleven major world religions make either explicit or implicit claims about the nature of human beings, and, to a lesser extent, animals. Some of the claims are implicit philosophical theories about what being a person means. Others discuss the value of traits with which persons may or may not be endowed. Some are much interested in the problem of the freedom of the will. Most of them ponder the metaphysical status of finite individuals. Do they possess a substantive or an adjectival mode of being? That is, are they new or unique creations or in some sense parts of a larger whole or a divine being? No known religion fails to consider what happens to the individual person after death, although some contemporary religious thinkers may not make much of that problem. I will now examine these alternatives and options. One thing seems clear initially. Most representatives of the eleven living world religions claim that the human being is more than a physical creature. They claim that human selves in their primary nature are conscious, with mental motives; efforts to explain human individuality merely and exclusively in physicalistic terms are not only false but destructive of any serious religious beliefs. If we do not regard the human self as primarily a conscious being, no intelligent support for any of the living religions can exist. We are forced at once into a foundational and difficult philosophical problem, the philosophy of mind. I cannot offer a survey of that issue here, but I can trace and consider the claims that religious believers make about the self and note some of the problems and advantages of a religious interpretation. If we do not hold to the finite human self as in some sense primarily conscious, we may possibly regard religious attitudes with some seriousness; but then we would have to separate the claims of religion from the assertions of scientists. This, however, is not usually the case. If, for instance, we took a strictly naturalistic, behavioristic view of what being a person means, we ought to acknowledge frankly that religion is scarcely more than superstition in spite of its valuable cultural contributions. Reductive materialists are right in rejecting religions claims and authorities if they regard their position as the only possible one. If anyone who took this position still thought that considering religious claims seriously is important, we would be obliged to adopt either of two positions. First, we could, as some traditional philosophers did, adopt the position of the double-truth, saying that two kinds of truth exist, one religious, the other "scientific." Francis Bacon and Thomas Hobbes took this position. They were clearly metaphysical materialists. Hobbes said that strictly speaking only physical bodies existed. At the same time, he was willing to admit another kind of truth that was separate from philosophy, namely, that found in the Church. Hardly anyone today could support that dualistic position, though as an

172

RELIGIOUS CLAIMS ABOUT THE PERSON

indication that we have no quarrel with religious ideas—one day a week—it is possibly socially expedient. The second possibility for someone wanting to give recognition to religious values who at the same time is a scientific realist or reductive naturalist or behaviorist is to hold the position that religious claims are noncognitive, that they do not state propositions that can be regarded as either true or false. Religious language then becomes the primary concern. We note how the language is used, how the religious community reaps practical values from specific word placings, and how the language expresses attitudes that seem desirable in the community and nation. We must never wonder whether religious assertions are true or false, any more than we would wonder whether any genuine truth is found in playing a game of chess or football. Those games have their own internal rules and structures, and once we are involved in a game, we do not ask whether the rules themselves are true. Accordingly, we may enter a religious community in a similar fashion: we may hold to a strict scientific behaviorism, may appreciate the practical empirical benefits of the religious tradition, and at the same time philosophically deny any truth or meaning to assertions of religious thinkers. I will say more about this interesting point of view in Chapter Eleven. But the situation is viewed quite differently by religious believers. Some religions are intensely concerned with the metaphysics of the self and its conscious life. For many Hindus, the aim of the finite individual is to cultivate such powers of mind that a person may find union with the truly superconscious ultimate reality. Yogic philosophy is utterly meaningless without the postulate of mental motives. Consciousness can transcend the physical body by discipline and control. The Jains urge that we suppress the body's drives, needs, and tendencies so that the soul (jiva) will be liberated from all attachment. The traditional Buddhist notes the role of desire in consciousness and seeks to overcome it by treading the Eightfold Path in order to attain final bliss in Nirvana. The disciplined consciousness is an inescapable necessity in order to practice Buddhism. Even the "sudden enlightenment" sought by the Zen Buddhist takes place in a disciplined conscious mind. It cannot be viewed as a mere physical or chemical change in the body. Confucians, Taoists, and Shintoists do not explore the metaphysics of the self but all stress some form of conscious self-control and disciplined ethical activity. Judaism stresses the moral will and conscious freedom, as does Christianity. The Zoroastrian sees the self as struggling between the forces of evil and good. Muslims emphasize the finite individual's separation from Allah and require individual conscious submission of the will to Allah. Sikhism takes a view more like the Jewish and Christian positions. I repeat: No logical support can be found for any of the religions if the self is not initially viewed as central. How can we separate out the various issues and test proposed alternatives?

The Ontological Status of the Individual

173

1. The Ontological Status of the Individual One fundamental question concerns the source and status of finite individuality in the whole of the universe. Is the individual person a uniquely created being, wholly new and unique? If so, whence its origin, and is it independent? Is the individual part of a larger whole—perhaps a segment or partial entity, a phase or adjective of the Ultimate One, a mode, an emanation having a divine spark? Or is it a moment in an endless stream of conscious existence seeking to find fulfillment or perhaps "extinction without remainder," as some Buddhists teach? Do creatures less than human have a comparable status? Are they undeveloped souls imprisoned in animal bodies waiting for release? Are they the results of an evolutionary sifting process with no potential to achieve a higher level of being? Religions variously make such claims, but how can they be tested? The question of the status of the individual self is difficult to answer even on a socalled scientific view, as if but one scientific account existed. We begin with the facts of conscious personal existence and then must ask how that existence can best be understood. If we say that each person is in some sense unique and without ties to some previous existence, or not an obscured part of a larger allembracing ultimate consciousness, we must then hold to a view of creation—a view found in the Near Eastern religious beliefs. While we may see a continuity from parent to child in the physical sense, can the real uniqueness of human minds be so accounted for? (Saint Augustine thought of traducianism.) But if we say that each conscious person is unique, even while admitting the close connection between mind and body, whence individuality? Is it merely posited by some external creator? On the other hand, if we maintain that individual selves are temporary split-offs or perhaps emanations of the Ultimate, even greater logical difficulties seem to arise. If the Ultimate or God is ontologically linked with each living individual, how may the utter variety and uniqueness be accounted for? On one extreme, if we confine ourselves to the human level alone, we find selves of high intellectual attainment; on the other hand, we find individuals who are barely conscious, virtually subhuman. We find on the one extreme the personified nastiness and cruelty of a Heinrich Himmler or Josef Stalin and on the other the self-sacrificing saintliness of a Saint Francis or Mother Teresa. Are such widely divergent beings best accounted for by viewing them as lesser forms of a divinity? Is not a simple physiological explanation sufficient? The usual way of accounting for such differences, offered by the religions based in India, is to propose the intertwined doctrines of karma and reincarnation. Hindus hold that finite souls are really beginningless. Through their own choices they have built up either good or bad karma. A person living now is initially a deposit of karmic consequences from previous instances of existence. We may through effort, or maybe with divine grace, alter our status in this life so that the life to follow will be on a higher plane. The final goal of

174


repeated finite existences is to come to full realization in the Ultimate Spirit. Buddhists, generally speaking, do not think the goal of life is to seek unity and realization with the Supreme Being. But they insist on what is called "dependent origination," that is, each finite consciousness now living is a product of previous existences. Present existence is laden with karmic consequences. With slight modification, that is also the position of the openly atheistic Jains. Jains aim at moksha or liberation from the ignorance that binds individuals to earthly life; traditional Buddhists aim at "extinction without remainder," Nirvana or the "blowing out of existence." . Thus, our view of the ontological status of the finite self cannot be treated in isolation from other aspects of the religious system. I then ask the larger question: What is the generally more reasonable view? Are individual selves unique, one-time creations or are they unbegun finite units seeking escape from the karma of past lives so they might unite finally with the deity or in some sense be liberated forever from the bane of earthly existence? One advantage of the Indian view is that it offers some account of the finite individuality in animals. They are lesser individuals reflecting past karma. Traditional Western views see animals as lesser creatures without much significance but perhaps to be understood as servants, pets, or food for human beings. No single account of the ontological status of individuals exists, including those called "scientific," which is without serious problems when it comes to explaining the uniqueness of finite individuals. I will not, however, rest with the view that no answers are possible. That does not mean that I cannot find some satisfactory solution, nor will I persistently postpone any clarifying answers until some future time when science will know all! I reject the implicit "double-truth" doctrine voiced by the biologist Paul Weisz: Again, neither the scientific nor the religious interpretation is truer. If the theologian argues that everything was made by God . . . then the scientist will argue back that chance chemical reactions created men with brains which can conceive of a God who made everything. The impasse is permanent and within their own systems of communication the scientist and the theologian are equally right.1 A philosophical rationality will not leave us stranded in this way, for 1 seek inclusive understanding without limiting myself merely to science or theology. I cannot supply here a full treatment of the fascinating and subtle problems associated with the metaphysics of the self or the philosophy of mind. I can, however, indicate some of the possible directions. Some theories of mind are compatible with religious beliefs, as I have said, and some are not. Honesty requires that if I settle on a view of the nature of finite selves that is not compatible with religion, I should then reject religious belief of all kinds. I turn now to some of the ontological options.


175

First, I state unequivocally that if we take a strictly physiological, behavioristic view of the human individual, religion should be vacated. If someone is a "reductionist" and views the finite self as "needy protoplasm" or as little more than a stimulus-response organism with no place whatever for mentality, spiritual motives, or rational purpose, they must then treat religious claims as hardly anything more than useful fictions that might keep some people happy, or they must treat them as harmful superstitions that should be exposed. No single "scientific" view of the self exists, and behavioristic psychologists differ from those with a phenomenological orientation. Important considerations do, however, suggest the validity of a physicalistic view. For the sake of unity in the sciences, a uniform method must be used. The strictest scientists insist on direct observation, classification, measurement, experimentation, hypotheses, and testing of proposals to verify them. And scientific approaches have been successful, issuing in trips to the moon, astounding computer activities, and magnificent military weapons. So we must try to understand the human self using scientific approaches as far as possible, else we would seem to have an untrustworthy position. A physicalistic view, then, is claimed to be one that accords with the rest of the sciences and is in harmony with a scientific way of viewing things. We observe behavior both in the larger sense of overt, publicly seen patterns of action and in the detailed physiological sense, moving from directly observable bodily movements, knee jerks, and the like, to brain psychology, neural responses, chemical effects on behavior, and brainwave measurements. The data collected here have been not only fascinating but useful in assuaging reason to reject the conclusions given us by the behavioral or physicalistic scientist. To collect important data that can be useful for medicine is one thing, but to claim that what the scientist has told us is all that is knowable about the self is quite another. Accordingly, when a scientist goes beyond his or her important discipline and interprets findings as metaphysics or philosophy of mind, we have a right to question such views. A physicalistic view may remind us that impressive robots can duplicate human actions and that computers can with lightning speed calculate solutions unimaginable to human beings. But questions arise. Can the thought process that led to robots and computers be explained according to the laws of physics? Are the plans, purposes, and choices of the skilled scientist to be understood merely as physical changes in the scientist's body? Are ideas and plans and purposes and hypotheses primarily spatial occurrences? Experience gives evidence of purposive actions that can quickly be distinguished from mechanical ones. The brain surgeon Wilder Penfield noted that patients could distinguish between acts caused in them and acts caused by themselves. The yogi practitioner displayed such remarkable control of bodily actions and such high powers of mental concentration that they seem better able to explain the physical than the physical can explain them. Nor does the urge to food, drink, self-preservation, and sex have the same status as motives to self-control and self-sacrifice. Introspective awareness and external stimuli exhibit actual'

176


experienced differences. Are we to allow external reports to take precedence over what we are personally aware of? We must recall that the very quest to give an account of differences in stimuli comes first from a conscious awareness of those differences. The data of consciousness are prior to their explanation. But since the data of consciousness are not publicly observable and measurable, some scientists choose to ignore them and look only at what can be publicly observed, measured, and verified. This pathway virtually rules out any serious attention to religious phenomena. Second, we may now ask ourselves what various religions claim about the nature of an individual self or person. None of them are willing to accept a simplistic physiological or physicalistic reduction of the self to bodily states. (1) One prominent view found in several religions over a long period of time is the view that each individual is a soul or has a soul. The soul is an entity or essence that is more than mere self-awareness. It is the very being or essence of an individual that makes consciousness possible in spite of breaks in it from sleep, comas, and the like. It is the source of identity and permanence and the container of value. It endures whether we are conscious or not. That each finite individual has a soul substance is a long and widespread belief. We find it in the ancient Hindu doctrine of atman and in the Jewish-Christian and Muslim traditions as well, though we find internal variants. The soul substance is regarded as the "form" of the body, the very reason the physical body exists. To suggest then that while the body is dependent on the soul, the soul can be independent of the body is but a simple step. It can live and continue to exist after the physical body dies. And it is the soul substance that either (i) continues as such in Heaven, Purgatory, Limbo, or Hell or (ii) it is the soul that unites with Brahman and may lose its identity (advaita) in the One or be absorbed in the One and retain some measure of selfhood (vishishtadvaita). Millions of religious persons take such a view, although most of them could not describe what they mean by the soul. Most are convinced that such an underlying being as the source of their personality and awareness exists. While Hindus believe individual souls existed from beginningless time, Christians, Jews, and Muslims will claim that each soul is a unique new creation of God. But even to formulate such a view is difficult, and while it has great traditional power and hold, we may wonder how it can be supported outside of an elaborate metaphysical scheme. Does a difference exist between our selfawareness and the soul substance that undergirds it? Must we conclude that a soul exists because it seems to be logically necessary in order to explain identity and continuity? We have the evidence of our own consciousness. Do we have any evidence whatsoever of this essential being? It fits nicely into much traditional religious language, and it is one of the basic teachings of Plato that the soul inhabits the physical body for a time and then re-enters an immortal state from whence it came. It is a feature of Aristotle's metaphysics as well, although he did not separate soul from body as sharply as Plato. I wonder whether this old and persistent view is really a solution to what it means to be


177

an individual or whether it only restates the problem by introducing a facile concept that accounts for conscious existence but cannot itself be interpreted further. (2) Vast numbers of other devout religious believers—notably traditional Buddhists—claim something quite different. They reject the idea of a substantial soul and claim that no fundamental metaphysical agent or being called the soul exists. Instead, the individual self is a stream or flow of consciousness. No real essential unity exists, simply because that unity or identity cannot be found in the flux of conscious life. Some will recognize that this approach has much in common with David Hume's position that neither soul nor permanent self exists but only a "bundle of perceptions." The traditional Buddhist speaks of the self as a flux, not of an entity that transmigrates. It is a stream that continues from one momentary existence to another in accord with karmic law. Accordingly, Buddhists maintain that the stream continues after particular individual finite physical existence perishes in some other bodily complex. Hume claimed neither karmic influences nor a continuation of finite awareness in some other mode of existence. Religious persons who hold this view adopt also the view that our present stream of consciousness was flowing before this particular historical existence. Its present status is conditioned by its previous status. Our finite existence is not independent but has a "dependent origination." Hume's view is more empirical than the theory of the soul substance. We look within, as Hume did, to see what is there. And we find momentary states linked to each other in some way, but we never find any entity or unity. If we think of the self as an identity, it is but a "feigned" identity. For the traditional Buddhist, the feigning must be got rid of. The clinging to self-identity becomes one of the hindrances to religious peace and salvation. Thus, for traditional Buddhists the goal of any stream of conscious life would be to "blow out existence," and that is one meaning of Nibbana or Nirvana. I cannot go into all the subtleties of this view any more than I could the preceding one. My question concerns whether it is sound or true. If we omit the idea of a previous existence, this view has features of the self that fit into the metaphysical view of A. N. Whitehead and Charles Hartshorne. No soul or essence exists, but instead a complex of conscious states linked to each other in time (objective immortality). But we must ask ourselves whether this really is the case. Does our individuality have no persistent identity? Is the flow all that exists? If so, I wonder about the worth or value of the individual, something that all religions seem to imply. Which momentary self is worthwhile or worth preserving? We may notice the constantly changing, flowing states of consciousness, but does nothing endure through those changing states? My physical features undergo constant change, but through all I have an awareness that they are my features, just as I can recognize my own signature often, twenty, or fifty years ago as produced by me whose identity has lasted all this while.

178


I admit at once that this view of individuality has helped explain some of the mental aberrations we notice around us, such as cases of split personality, schizoid behavior, and the changes of personality that come with such tragedies as Alzheimer's disease, in which an aged person may not only fail to recognize those who have been dear for sixty years but does not even recognize himself or herself. The soul substance view would claim that the identity is still there and is preserved; the stream of consciousness view says that different momentary states related to previous ones exist, but nothing really persists. (3) At least one other view has been held by religious people, and that is the position called self-psychology. It takes its clues from conscious awareness, avoids the assertion of an unverifiable but deductively useful soul substance, and yet at the same time rejects the Humean view of no real identity. It stresses the priority of consciousness without reducing it to momentary units of experience or mere bundles of perceptions. It is neither a deductivistic nor a purely analytic position. It claims that a finite individual is one that experiences itself to be a unity of multiplicity—a flow of perceptions, ideas, and values— but with an individual biography built into it. The stream of consciousness is not just a stream but has a biography. Self-identity is found in the basic fact of self-identifying memory. Furthermore, this view calls attention to the holistic or Gestalt aspects of consciousness. My experience does not actually occur in bits and pieces. Such bits can be isolated by analysis, but they don't really occur as bits. They are blocks or patterns of experience. After I have uttered a sentence, I am aware that I am the one who began the sentence, kept the same accent throughout, and am the same self who ended the sentence and was aware that I was saying it. Furthermore, when I link sentences in a paragraph or into a book, I am aware that it is something I have done. My mind does not actually work by adding tiny units of sound, taste, color, emotion, duty, or value. It is aware of "wholes." 1 can grasp wholes and I know it is I who does that. In addition, we can also use the argument of Immanuel Kant, who noted that a unity of thought accompanies the process of exploration of analysis. While I may not actually perceive or see an entity, if no unity and identity existed, I could not investigate whether any unity was present. To think, to understand, even to know anything, requires that some transcendental unity of apperception be present that can be understood and that makes understanding possible. This idea was recognized by G. W. Leibniz who, in responding to John Locke's assertion that nothing exists in the mind but sensation, added that the mind itself was also there. Nothing exists in the mind that was not first in experience, except the mind itself, which then becomes the prerequisite of experience. This is not a mysterious being, not a soul, but both a necessary unifier and an experienced unifier. This self-awareness is the seat of value, which retains its individuality and which may or may not be immortal. In the absence of self-experience, no self exists. This view has obvious difficulties as well, especially when attempting to account for unusual phenomena and aberrations, such as amnesia, comas, and

Does the Individual Have a Free Will?

179

the loss of identity in senility. But arguably it does account for more of the ordinary, normal human experiences than either of the other two views. Apparently, this third view has advantages over the others and over the simplistic scientific views. It is fully compatible with the- claims of any of the eleven religions about the finite self. 2. Does the Individual Have a Free Will? Religions presently dominant in the West have emphasized that individual selves have freedom of the will and hence are responsible for their actions. Chinese religions scarcely discuss this topic but assume human responsibility, and religions growing out of India similarly place no strong emphasis on the doctrine. They simply assume it. Again, this is one of the standard philosophical questions that can be raised apart from any religious belief. I need to explore it because it acquires importance for religion. But I need first to be clear on what I mean. No one has ever presented the position that human individuals are totally free, without any conditioning or limiting factors in the environment, such as social order, heredity, and psychology. What I wish to know is, do we have any freedom at all? Do we in any sense have the power to go against the factors that have molded us or are we totally a product of antecedent influences? In short, do we have the power of contrary choice? When the problem is put this way, we apparently have a rare case in philosophical thought where only two logical possibilities exist. Either we are totally caused or conditioned or we are not. If one view is false, the other is true. No middle ground exists. But how could such an issue be settled? The evidence coming to us from the natural, biological, and social sciences strongly suggests that human beings, though very complicated, do not have any mysterious feature, quality, or attribute that can be called free will. Principles or laws that have definitely been established through the study of animal behavior apparently imply that, had we enough data and the actual possibility of experimenting with human beings, we would readily see that comparable laws are at work that would preclude any theory of an elusive will that could produce or cause an unpredictable change in thought or action. Evidence from the sciences, observed and measured, suggests that the widespread religious belief in the power of contrary choice is untrue, however pleasant and useful it might be as a belief. If we confine ourselves to the reductionist scientific method, the idea of a free will seems to be pure fiction. The more we discover through the scientific method, the more we find pattern and law with no room for the introduction of an unobservable and unanalyzable factor such as the will as an actual cause. As I have said before, however, that we must be doggedly committed to a strictly scientific approach in such matters is not clear. Scientific assertions and claims must come before the bar of rational criticisms just as much as must religious

180


assertions and claims. The scientific method is a form of rationality; it does not equal rationality, for rationality has made criticisms and introduced subsequent improvements in the scientific method itself. The question of whether human beings have freedom of the will in any sense of the word is a question that cannot quickly be settled by appeals to science or to language analysis for that matter. Nor can we settle the matter by a simple appeal to the Judeo-ChristianIslamic tradition, which finds its model for the freedom of the will in the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. I must note initially that any account I give of such topics either from a scientific, religious, or philosophical standpoint is a solution or explanation that would apply to every person, including the thinker who proposes the solution. In such matters, we find no absolutely disinterested observers who are not covered by the theory they propose but somehow stand apart from it. Scientists have often given the impression that they, as careful, objective observers, are not part of or personally affected by the conclusions they propose. Findings about astronomy, extra-galactic nebulae, or the behavior of porpoises might be instances of observations that do not affect the observer. But when a scientist makes claims about human beings, the view covers his or her own thought and behavior or it is meaningless. I say this to point out, as J. R. Lucas has, that if the position of one hundred percent determinism is true, it includes not only all animals and human beings but also the person who says that determinism is true, which means we have no freedom of choice whatsoever. But if the person who proposes that determinism is true is determined to say that it is, and must be as subject to fixed laws as he or she claims everyone else is, what warrant have we for accepting the position? To put it another way: The scientist who begins a quest for truth undertakes the arduous task of trying to sift the relevant from the irrelevant, the false from the true, the correct from the mistaken. He or she must regularly and persistently organize findings and decide which hypothesis to test, which to reject, and then, when questioned by colleagues, give reasons for the findings and reasons for rejecting specific conclusions. But, if determinism is true, the scientist does not really have the power to decide what is true or what is false. The scientist, too, is a product of deterministic laws and cannot select from the data and the conclusions what is correct and what is mistaken. The claim is that no selective process is possible, so like every other living being, the scientist, too, is subject to the laws he or she has supposedly discovered. Accordingly, strict scientific determinism—which does not admit even a tiny portion of free will—is a self-refuting, self-denying position. If one thing is clear, the pursuit of any kind of truth requires that the pursuer be able to decide, select, and choose freely what is regarded as truth and what is regarded as error. But that is logically impossible for a deterministic stance. Hence, we could never have any rational assurance that determinism was true and belief in some free will agency was false. To pursue truth, some measure of free choice is required, else no truth of any kind exists, especially scientific truth. Not only

Does the Individual Have a Free Will?

181

is "truth" a meaningless word if we have no power to decide the true from the false, but so also are the words "duty," "responsibility," and "guilt." Without freedom of choice in a minimal sense, as Kant argueH, we have no moral accountability. Religious obligations as well as moral obligations—duties to family, society, and government—are meaningless if we are unable to do otherwise, if we are one hundred percent molded by causal factors. Note that most religious thinkers will admit a high degree of causality and determinism in the make-up and behavior of human beings. The strong belief in karma found in four of the eleven literate religions illustrates a keen awareness of causation. We carry with ourselves the karma-laden consequences of previous lives; we cannot escape the impact or influence of past experiences. But all who firmly hold to karma offer ways to overcome its influence, ways to rise above its power and strive for a new level of existence. We may be weighed down by past sins, but we have a way out if we make the conscious effort or, minimally, freely and willingly accept the offer of divine grace. Trilochan Singh, a Sikh thinker, sums it up in this fashion: Throughout the cycle of karma man either undergoes a moral evolution or devolution. The spiritually unconscious man, like an animal, sows what he reaps, but a man who is ascending in spiritual life destroys the burden of his karmic sins, and is liberated from birth and death. Karma for such a man is not destiny but a condition which he easily overcomes through spiritual effort.2 Buddhists, Hindus, and Jains would take a view in accord with this. They imply a doctrine of free will and responsibility without developing it overtly. We may well ponder whether freedom of the will is a meaningful idea among those theologians who insist that the Supreme Being is in total charge of the universe and that nothing happens without his design or approval. Thus, we find theological doctrines of "predestination" in the Protestant John Calvin and the Roman Catholic heretic Bishop Cornelius Jansen. In insisting on the absolute sovereignty of God and that human beings are absolutely dependent on the divine, these thinkers seem to rule out the idea of free will. But Bishop Jansen saw humanity's corruption as a result of the original choice of Adam and Eve, and Calvin vowed that while human beings are depraved they do have the freedom to yield to God's will. A comparable view exists in Islam, which also insists on the total sovereignty and power of Allah, who is in complete control of a human being's life. But even in that view, we find some minimal freedom of yielding or submitting freely to Allah's will. Some have unfortunately been unable to separate their enthusiasm for a totally powerful God from the awareness that human beings have some minimal causal power. This is a case where tradition and piety cloud the deeper issue. To say that a human being has some power seems to some of the pious to deny total power to the Supreme Being, but without such minimal power the

182


whole religious enterprise is arguably nothing but a minor farce played out by an absolute deity who cares not the least for all that he has presumably made. That might satisfy some religious temperaments, but it does not satisfy the philosophical mind. Some religious traditions have also suggested that if God is omniscient, he must have foreknowledge of the future. But that would also seem to imply that the future is molded. In a recent study, Lucas has noted: "If God created man in His own image, He must have created him capable of new intuitions and new insights which cannot be precisely or infallibly foreknown, but which give to the future a perpetual freshness as the inexhaustible variety of possible thoughts and actions crystallize into actuality."3 3. The Axiological Nature of the Finite Individual This is the traditional question of human nature. Are human beings good or evil by nature or are they neither? What is their status from the standpoint of value? Confucius believed in the inherent goodness of human nature. His follower Mencius said, "The tendency of man's nature is good" (6:1, 2, 2). The Shinto tradition goes further to maintain that human beings are fundamentally divine and have divinity implanted in them. The Jains hold that all living creatures by nature are sacred, from those with one and two senses to those with five. Their idea of the sacredness of all life has led not only to a vigorous vegetarianism but also to the highly influential doctrine of ahimsa, noninjury. Since all living beings (jiva) are sacred, they must be respected, never injured, and never killed. Thus, from a doctrine of the sacredness of life, an ethical command has developed. But this does not mean that human beings existing today are good by nature. Their present state is a result of previous karmic influences. No innocence or neutrality exists in human beings as we actually find them. Such is the case with all karmic religions. While human beings in essence may be of worth, their present circumstances are a reflection of past deeds and influences. In the Buddhist view, they are entrapped in the "wheel," the cycle of rebirths. In the Hindu view, the innate divinity of each being has been clouded over and suppressed by the past, so that real effort is needed to achieve full realization and the restoration of lost divinity. Christian and Jewish views of human nature vary but they too have affirmed, traditionally, that human beings are fallen creatures. Their present sinful state is, however, not a result of choices they individually have made. It is instead a consequence of the free choice of the first human being, Adam. Following Saint Augustine, who accepted Plato's view of universals, if human beings in general sinned (Adam), then all human beings in particular are bearers of that sinful nature. Thus, the concept of inherited original sin developed in Western religion. Despite its highly questionable logic and strange view of inherited generalized guilt, the view is still widely held in a literal as well as symbolic or "reinterpreted" sense. No one is born innocent in this

The Axiological Nature of the Finite Individual

183

tradition, any more than in the karmic religions. We carry the burden, if not of past lives, then of someone else's sin, namely, Adam's. In its most intense version, human beings are viewed as depraved creatures responsible for the evil choice of Adam yet utterly unable to improve their state apart from the grace of the Almighty, who then selects whom he will for salvation. Milton's Paradise Lost is the best literary formulation of that view. The "reinterpreted" version, such as Paul Tillich's, speaks of the intrinsic blindness of human beings until their eyes are opened to truth. But to others, any form of this view of inherited guilt is repugnant logically, metaphysically, and ethically. Many have rejected it, holding that human beings are better regarded as children or sons and daughters of the divine, subject to moral weakness to be sure, but not responsible for a deed they did not commit and not guilty in general just because they happen to be human beings. This theme still evokes heated theological controversy. It continues to be divisive in ways incomprehensible to philosophers of religion in the Orient and to many elsewhere as well. Paradoxically, at the same time as Westerners speak of inherited human depravity and guilt, they also insist that human beings are of infinite value because they are human and created by God. They speak of the sacredness of human life, saying that human beings are the highest creative achievement of God and hence have inherent worth that must be respected in the case of the unborn fetus as well as in the case of imbeciles, victims of Alzheimer's disease, or comatose bodies that give not the slightest evidence of awareness or personal identity. At the same time, those religions that elevate the status of human being so loftily pay little heed to the uniqueness or value of animals. They are regarded as mere instruments for human use, pleasure, or food. In sharp contrast, the Jains teach that all living creatures are of value. They are, consequently, the strictest of vegetarians. Buddhists and Hindus similarly regard animals with respect but do distinguish levels, in Hinduism the cow being more sacred than the jackal or worm. The religions of China and Japan view animals in a similar light, although their claims about the infinite value of human beings are not so striking. Now, how can we decide such questions when we confront such competing claims? We can distinguish two directions, the question of the value that is attached to human beings as such, and the question of their intrinsic nature. To put it differently, even though human nature may be corrupt, are human beings still to be regarded as the highest value? Or, if human beings are the highest known creation, are they still inherently tainted and corrupt? Or are they innocent and malleable? Are they primarily self-centered and selfish, an obscured divinity?

Ten CLAIMS ABOUT THE FUTURE: IMMORTALITY All of the living religions of the world, including most of those we call preliterate, have made claims and do still make claims about experiences and events that will take place in the future. The claims are of two types, the first about each individual, the second, about events to occur in future history. Of great interest to many people is the first type, which resolves itself into the blunt question: What will happen to me and others after physical death? Or, will I survive death? The second type makes projections about future history and includes questions such as the possibility of a coming Judgment Day, the end of human history, whether events are cyclical, whether human experience in the universe will go on indefinitely, and generally, what the future holds for all humankind and animals. 1 will examine claims made about both types of questions, beginning with the question of immortality and then moving on to the question of eschatology. While we find differences within the major religions, each with varying intensity makes both explicit and implicit assertions about whatwill happen to individuals when breathing stops. In spite of clear indications, the religions of Confucianism, Taoism, and Shintoism do not have as highly developed theories of life after death as we find in the Indian religions or in Near Eastern faiths. Accordingly, Confucius taught no forthright doctrine of immortality, but practicing Confucians regularly pay homage to the departed dead in what is sometimes called "ancestor worship." The belief is that deceased members of the family are still present in some sense. Even today, Chinese mourners write checks to their ancestors as expressions of aid and then burn them. Followers of the Shinto religion have similar concerns for the deceased family members and honor them as kami. Popular Taoism also regards the dead as somehow living. The desire for immortality was so strong in the Taoism of the third century B.C. that a series of emperors sought an elixir of immorality, a potion to prolong life indefinitely. This eventuated in a quest for "eatable gold." Such alchemical interests persisted into the fourth century A.D. even though experiments with elixirs resulted in early deaths for a number of monarchs. On the other hand, evidence is strong that serious philosophical Taoism was indifferent to immortality. In the Jewish tradition, we find both in the past and at present those who firmly believe in life after death and those for whom it is a matter of indifference or denial. Zoroastrians have given immortality a prominent place in their overall theology and have linked it with a coming Judgment Day. It has been almost foundational in traditional Christianity. A deep and widespread concern exists today among millions of Christians that the most important goal of the believer is to save the soul so it will persist forever, not in a painful Hell

186

CLAIMS ABOUT THE FUTURE: IMMORTALITY

of punishment but in the radiant bliss of Heaven. Practical talk and theology seem almost obsessed with concern for the future life among Christians of all types. Roman Catholics believe that persons still living can pray for the deceased to make their passage to bliss and to Heaven easier. We do recognize that some contemporary theologians such as Oscar Cullman have made a point of distinguishing the resurrection of the dead from theories of immortality, arguing that the latter is a Greek concept and misses the uniqueness of Christian resurrection. To some they seemingly jam such new meaning into the idea of resurrection that they no longer speak about what will happen to a person upon death. Note that the word "immortality" was used by Saint Paul, and I shall not quibble over it. Muslims also have strong doctrines of immortality, a belief zealously and fervently held. Some Muslims believe that those who sacrifice their lives in religious wars will attain Heaven directly. Sikhs too have a similar faith but also believe in reincarnation. In Hinduism, Buddhism, and Jainism, the claim that individuals persist after physical death is pervasive and persistent. The central emphasis is on reincarnation, that individuals who die will continue to live again in some other body. The soul returns to dwell in history until it has earned in some fashion the opportunity to cease the eternal round. It then is no longer subject to repeated reincarnations. This is not the place to do any more than recognize the many variations among these Indian faiths on what reincarnation means and what its ultimate goal is. But note a striking difference between Hinduism and Buddhism in their traditional forms. Both adhere to the doctrine of karma, which is the law governing our status in our next existence. The Hindu generally holds that a person's dtman (soul) will return again and again in various bodies until it has attained, by one of several means (commonly meditative discipline) oneness or identity with Brahman. When a person comes to full realization in Brahman, the individual soul is swallowed up in the One in some sense and is no longer subject to rebirth. The traditional Buddhist has no doctrine of a persistent soul that keeps its identity moving from body to body until it attains bliss in the all encompassing One. Instead, Buddhist philosophers claim that our present consciousness is a moment in an enduring stream of conscious existence that is reincarnated in various forms until it attains such control of "clinging" (strong desire) that its existence comes to an end in a state called Nirvana. Current Theravadin Buddhists speak of this as the "blowing out of existence." Other Buddhists, such as the Pure Land sect, affirm views of individual happiness in heavens where lotus blossoms a mile in diameter are found. The Jain faith, which is anti-theistic, maintains that we live after the present life, going through various forms of existence according to the relentless law of karma with the goal of attaining freedom from the ignorance that causes the individual's return. We become liberated souls like the great Tirthankaras, followed by no return.


187

The difference between the claims of religions of the Near East and the Indian religions are striking and irreconcilable. Christians, Muslims, and to some extent Jews, affirm no loss of individuality or identity. We live on as ourselves, knowing who we are, everlastingly, in a community or fellowship with the Supreme Being who is forever other than his created beings. No cyclical return takes place until some form of bliss or absorption in God is achieved. I cannot do more than note the doctrinal differences among Hindus and Buddhist believers. For example, while Hindus hold that the goal of reincarnation is absorption in God, they differ on whether the absorption means total loss of identity or the maintenance of some personal identity within the being of God. But what can the philosopher of religion make of all these claims? Since the earliest recorded Scriptures, persons have held to some sort of afterlife. As many as two billion inhabitants of the world now accept some form of postexistence, and perhaps half that number accept pre-existence. What can we make of such claims? I simply cannot deal with all the distinctions made by claimants, but I can look at the general question and consider the kind of general argument or evidence available, which is still used by thoughtful devotees who make such claims. One thing we must not do is to assert, without regard to arguments and supposed evidence, that the whole idea of immortality—some form of life after physical death—is totally false. That is already an assumption of a metaphysics that precludes it. But for a strict physicalist, who identifies the individual consciousness as nothing more than a form of physical activity, religious ideas of life after physical death cannot be seriously entertained. Nor may we say that the general claim to immortality of whatever sort is merely a verbal matter, that all we really mean by it is that deceased individuals will be remembered and honored in some way, but that personal biographies totally end with the fact of death or live on in our thoughts. We must not reinterpret in a patronizing way the claims religious people make to belief in a literal life after death by alleging that they really do not mean what they say. Acceptance of immortality as a belief may well be false, but it must be argued about; it may not glibly be cited as a metaphoric meaning, as Leo Tolstoy said. He argued that we can "experience immortality now as a quality of life." To put it simply, sincere believers actually think they are going to maintain their individual existence after they die. From the positive point of view, however, we must not simply assert that immortality is true because it is so widely held, because it is a revealed truth found in an authoritative Scripture, or because it has been a practically powerful and useful doctrine in assuaging human sorrow and disappointment. Seemingly, the proper thing to do is to investigate the basic claim as fairly as possible. In doing this, I cannot take into account all the subtle distinctions that religious people make. While Hindus and Christians have strikingly different

188


views on the nature and character of life after death, both seriously and strongly affirm that individuals persist when bodies are buried or burned. 1. Grounds for Denying the Existence of Survival in Any Form Notice first the several ways in which the fundamental claim for immortality is denied by some thinkers. (1) If we insist that the mind or soul is wholly linked to the physical body, then when the body disintegrates the individual as such must also be gone. This view assumes no fundamental difference between conscious awareness and physical existence. We may note apparent traits of being conscious, but those are directly traceable to physical sources. The evidence for mind-body identity is, on some accounts, very strong. We know that some mental illness can be arrested or improved by the administration of a chemical, such as lithium. We are aware of the presence of brainwaves that seem to be the electrical counterparts of thinking and perceiving. We know that some sections of the physical brain seem clearly linked not only to the ability to speak or move, but also to memory, one of the sources of identity. If the memory "section" of the brain is incapacitated, does an individual still exist? This problem falls under the topic of philosophy of mind, and I cannot pursue it further here other than to suggest that identity theories seem to preclude any view of persistence after physical death. (2) Another way of stating this negative argument is to suggest that the belief in life after death is incompatible with known scientific laws. To be sure, we see an "immortality" in seeds that bring flowers to bear and whose seeds in turn bring similar flowers to fruition. Similarly, the persistence of genetic structures are passed down through thousands of years in animals and human beings. But on what can the persistence of the individual apart from the presence of physical bodies be based? The so-called Western tradition seems to affirm bodiless post-existence; the Indian tradition at least connects persistent mental energy with new bodies. Does evidence support the claims of the survival oT identity after physical death? Serious studies of reported claims have been undertaken by such societies as the British Society and American Society for Physical Research. In addition, a science of parapsychology has arisen, which does not begin its researches by claiming that mind and body are one, but instead looks for evidence that might suggest they are not identical. Accordingly, we find examinations of claims to "out-of-body" experiences, clairvoyance, precognition, reports of deceased persons, and the like. Philosophers such as C. J. Ducasse and C. D. Broad—not noted for religious commitment—have tried to examine such phenomena fairly and objectively. Some evidence cannot readily be accounted for by ordinary science. But so much evidence exists of fraud in the past and financial interest in the present that we may feel compelled to approach allegedly positive

Grounds for Denying the Existence of Survival in Any Form

189

evidence with a lukewarmness. No scientist may rule out in advance evidence of this sort, but the evidence is frankly so flimsy and fragmentary that we could hardly aver that science allows us to accept belief in survival after death. Yet science as such is always ready to respect evidence and does not rule out the possibility in advance as quickly as would a behavioristic or materialistic psychologist. A number of physical scientists are believers in immortality, although I suspect that they do so on grounds of "faith," distinguishing the findings of the scientific method from the deliverance of "faith," which they seem to imply is another way of knowing. That this idea of two kinds of truth can be held with rational conviction is not clear. (3) The psychological observation is sometimes made that belief in immortality is merely the expression of a desire or wish that, when stated, may well bring comfort in bereavement or in facing the anxieties and hardships of life. It should thus be seen, not as a deep truth about our universe, but as an idea that has marked psychological benefit and can therefore be tolerated. If the view of life after death comforts the lonely widower or mother mourning her child or if it gives courage to continue daily work in spite of the call of death, then we should recognize its value practically and say no more. But if we are to allow ideas to be held that might be practically useful, where do we stop? Do fairies exist who do good deeds and gremlins who slow down machinery? Minds cannot be comforted if beliefs are said to be useful but not true. Moreover, can we ignore Sigmund Freud's charge that immortality is a fiction invented by infantile people? (4) Note also the objection, for those not accepting reincarnation, that to imagine or even conceive what the afterlife might be is impossible. Is it not then a meaningless belief? If we persist after physical death, do we have a new body? (Peter Geach thinks a physical resurrection is easier to accept than a bodiless immortal spirit.) Would enough room exist in Heaven or Hell for all the deceased from this planet to survive? Will we dwell in outer space, or on some other planetary surface? Will we be in the presence of loved ones, friends, and family members? Will they be recognizable? Will wives know their husbands? (Mormons believe that a person can marry for eternity and have the same spouse for endless time.) Once when asked a question about marriage by inquiring Sadducees, Jesus replied: "For in the resurrection they neither marry, nor are given in marriage, but are as the angel of God in heaven" (Matt. 22:30).' If such a thing as life after death exists, what sort of existence will we have? Will progress and development occur? Ralph Waldo Emerson once remarked: "There are people who cannot dispose of a day; an hour hangs heavy on their hands, and you offer them rolling ages without end." Additionally, would anyone really want to live forever? Wouldn't three hundred years be enough for most people who may wish to see how particular things are going to turn out? Even those who accept reincarnation—a series of lives perhaps over many centuries—still maintain that individuality, when worthy enough, will culminate its existence, either being absorbed in the

190

CLAIMS ABOUT THEFUTURE: IMMORTALITY

Ultimate or being lost in Nirvana for Buddhists who see that as "extinction without remainder." A time comes when no more rebirths will take place. Mere length of existence eventuates in a quality of being that' surpasses all quantitative measurements. Conjectures about the next life seem almost useless. Imagine a conversation between twins in a womb before birth. They would be unable to grasp what their future would be like when they emerged. We'may not charge the doctrine of immortality with being false just because it obviously involves future mystery, providing that we have other grounds for. adopting it. Yet puzzles about the future life can be resolved if we reaffirm that God is an infinite, benevolent spirit. If we hold that love brought human beings into the world, then we may reasonably hold that love would take us out of it, and that love will prevail, that any future life will be under God's care and sustenance even though we have no inkling of what it might be like. To accept that approach seems more reasonable than to adopt a Whiteheadian "objective" immortality, where all individuality is lost but at the same time, all is somehow preserved in God, "who has a tender care that nothing be lost." (5) In addition, we have the practical question of memory loss in individuals, whether through brain damage or progressive conditions such as Alzheimer's disease. If memory is the clue to human individuality, what sort of an identity will prevail when those parts of the brain (as Wilder Penfield noted) that preserve memory are gone? What sort of identity is kept? Would God restart a lost memory in the case of brain-dead persons? If memory synapses are directly localizable in the brain, even though thought and consciousness are not, what really happens to individuality? This is where the doctrine of the soul as an independent individual substance has an answer, but is it a good one? 2. Grounds for Supporting Some View of Immortality A great deal of literature and rhetoric affirms some sort of existence after death. The Bhagavad Gita pronounces that we are more than our bodies and that the soul will not die. Jesus promised his followers that he'would go to prepare a place for them. Millions of people accept the resurrection stories of the Christian tradition—affirming them creedally every Sabbath—and have been doing so for almost two thousand years. But superstitions are old as well. Age and widespread acceptance are not determinants of truth, but they do make us ask whether the claims have warrant. Ancient Scriptures going back as far as the Rig Veda and the Zoroastrian accounts before the Hebrew Scriptures have attested to it. So have Buddhist teachings five hundred years before the Christian scene. Can a modern thinker ignore this persistent testimony in the light of scientific and philosophic thinking of the past two hundred years? We may not line up authorities for or against this belief. Interestingly, however, some of the greatest Western philosophers beginning with Plato affirmed it—for

Grounds for Supporting Some View of Immortality

191

example, Plotinus, Saint Thomas Aquinas, Rene Descartes, G. W. Leibniz, George Berkeley, Immanuel Kant, G. W. F. Hegel, and Gustav Fechner—as many contemporaries still do. But a strong number have been on the other side, commencing with Aristotle and including Epicurus, Lucretius, Benedict Spinoza (who voiced a psychological view), David Hume, and Bertrand Russell. Several kinds of support may be distinguished: (1) One of the so-called classic arguments in support of life after death maintains that the soul is a simple substance. Since a simple substance is one that cannot be broken down into lesser entities—not being made up of parts, by definition—the simple substance cannot disintegrate. It is therefore immortal by nature. This deductivistic argument seems less persuasive when we ask about the relation between conscious awareness of the self and this substance. Is the soul, as an indestructible being, something other than consciousness, a support for consciousness, which continues whether we are conscious or not? We are forced into a discussion of what truly constitutes an individual. From a religious standpoint, we could maintain on the one hand that the soul is a unique creation of God and as such cannot be destroyed except as he intends. On the other hand, we could say with some Hindus that the atman (soul) is in reality already part of Brahman (God) and that its aim is to come to a full realization that it is such. Accordingly, on this view, individuality is just a passing appearance that exists only because of karmic influences. The soul by its very nature is immaterial and eternal. (2) More common arguments in recent times emphasize not the metaphysical character of the soul but its intrinsic nature as valuable. The soul is the seat of moral, religious, and aesthetic value. Thus, if value perishes the universe would lose its meaning. Kant found a basis for a reasonable belief in immortality grounded in his analysis of the moral life. If we grant that morality in essence means doing our duty, then we realize almost at once that far more duties are laid before us than we could ever accomplish in one short human life. If a moral order exists, as Kant held, then surely we must have opportunities to fulfill our responsibilities. No real duties exist without chances to realize them. Accordingly, we reasonably postulate that occasions to do our duty will occur after physical death in an immortal state. Additionally, Kant also held that belief in God was a reasonable postulate of morality, for God is the moral judge who guarantees that justice be done. Alternatively, in a moral universe, some connection must exist between virtue and happiness, duty and justice. Anyone who has studiously avoided moral responsibility should, in effect, get what they deserve. And anyone who has sincerely striven for the best, anyone with a rational goodwill, should find some satisfaction. But such justice obviously does not occur in the short span of

192


human existence. Hence, an immortal state is required that justice might be realized. We can quickly see how this argument is implicit in the doctrine of karma as well. We must reap what we sow or morality and responsibility are mere meaningless fictions. From an Indian perspective, then, rebirth is required that justice might be achieved. Observe that in some religious perspectives, life after death is not connected with loyalty to duty or faithful carrying out of moral demands. It is, instead, a consequence of proper belief, acceptance of sacraments, or relation to God by faith. To put it more directly, a person is "saved" not by moral duties but by grace, by faith not by works. (3) A somewhat different angle on this second argument emphasizes not morality alone but the whole realm of values and human creativity. (i) One aspect says that each individual is unique and intrinsically valuable. Indeed, God's love for individuals makes them valuable whether they feel that way or not. Does it make sense to say that if the universe be valueoriented, as Plato maintained, it would annihilate or destroy beings that are intrinsically valuable? Even A. N. Whitehead took the view that God had a tender care that nothing be lost. John Laird put it this way: If souls are worth making they are worth keeping. (ii) Another aspect of the argument notes that individual selves are able to produce and create values as well as enjoy them. A universe would be sorry, indeed, that did not sustain those in whom value may be fulfilled and preserved. In C. E. M. Joad's words, "unless there is a more abundant life before mankind, this world of material things in space and time is a bad joke beyond our understanding, a vulgar laugh braying across the mysteries." (iii) Other philosophers claim that the basic argument for individual immortality hinges on nothing less than the character of God himself. Put simply it says: If God is good, he will not only create the good but will sustain and support it. Our immortality rests on the reliability and goodness of God. The following has been put forth by E. S. Brightman, who thinks this is the basic argument: If there is a God—a supreme creative cosmic person—then there is an infinitely good being committed to the eternal conservation of values . . . every argument for God's goodness is an argument for his obligation to maintain persons in existence as intrinsic values that could not be lost without a total failure of God's good purpose. But I must raise a few critical questions. The argument, even beginning with Kant, is based on the hypothesis (not an assumption) that the universe is good in essence and purpose, that moral structures exist. Should we deny that, the argument is immensely weakened.

Grounds for Supporting Some View of Immortality

193

None of those who employ the value argument for immortality in any of its forms, indicate how life after death is possible. What form would our existence take? Can we possibly conceive of artistic creation or moral development without some community? And just how would individuality be maintained? Such puzzles are perhaps not sufficient to refute the arguments or take away their appeal. We do not know how we attain our present individuality and our uniqueness. A physicalistic account of the origin of individual persons surely does not "explain" differences in personal creativity, motivation, and moral responsibility. Thus, our own birth is a mystery and so too is that which happens after we die. Note also that some religious believers deny the existence of God and still maintain immortality. We find this among the atheistic Jains and among many practicing Buddhists, for whom the idea of God is unimportant if not false. In this case, however, note that the law of karma sustains and governs the production and continuance of individual souls. Thus, their argument too, even without God, is an argument based on the moral order of the universe. Our own historical identity may not be preserved, but our being or effects are in some way influential on the next reincarnated life. So this is a form of Kant's argument. The universe guarantees justice. "Whatsoever a person sows, that will he reap." (4) Some think that belief in life after death can still be supported by evidence garnered from seances or voices of the dead, communication with those now deceased being allegedly possible. To be sure, some remarkable and inexplicable things occur, as John Hick has admitted. But we could not build a convincing case on inexplicables. Furthermore, alleged instances of remembered past lives do not provide much more than puzzles. Yet, such reports do occur often in the press and in semi-popular books. A recent book, The Search for Omm Sety: A Story of Eternal Love, tells about how a young lady named Dorothy Eady came to believe she was a reincarnated orphan girl named Bentreshyt who served in the Egyptian temple of Abydos more than 3,000 years ago and who had fallen tragically in love with Pharaoh Sety the First. This book, by Jonathan Cott, tells the story of an extraordinary Englishwoman—either a gifted eccentric or a reincarnated spirit who met with her eternal lover through astral projection. Philosophical minds in India who support the idea of reincarnation would do so more on general philosophical grounds than by appealing to evidence of this sort. Indeed, some Buddhist philosophers warn against the effort to recall past lives, noting the confusion it would cause and saying that we are blessed with the power to forget them.

194

CLAIMS ABOUT THE FUTURE: IMMORTALITY 3. Impersonal or Objective Immortality

Some philosophers in the West have taken a position (not wholly unlike aspects of Buddhism) that suggests that even though they believe in God as the supreme creator and ruler of the universe, no individual survival takes place as such. This view is linked with Whitehead's idea of objective immortality. Nothing of value is lost in God, but individuals as such do not retain their identity. What survives when a person dies is his or her individual contribution to the world. Newton's, Beethoven's, or Copernicus's .works stand as a testimony to their living spirit. These works linger in the lives of those who are affected by them. This view is admirably explicated by Plato in the Symposium. Here we are told of an urge in human nature to be immortal—an urge satiated by what we create. Those who create, or better procreate, spiritual works play a formative role in shaping the minds and sense of value of subsequent generations. In this way they endure. But this cannot be viewed as an absolute or metaphysical endurance, for it is contingent on the historical conditions of human life, on the receptivity of people to these works and also on the possibility of survival of the human race. 4. Pre-Existence The idea of having lived before the present life is an expected concomitant for those who accept the doctrine of reincarnation. Our present existence is directly related to a previous one. This view was an intrinsic part of Plato's theory of knowledge. Since we are able to know truths that are by nature eternal, they must be like those truths. Plato taught a doctrine of reminiscence: the knowledge we acquire today is possible because we are able to remember what we once knew in a pre-existent state. How can we know abstract general ideas? They are not collections of evidence, yet we are able after a process of education to recall fundamental principles. Thus, when Socrates is talking with a slave boy about a geometrical figure, he remarks, after the boy shows understanding: "See how well he remembers." But to postulate pre-existence as a way of accounting for the mind's ability to grasp concepts seems now to be an unnecessary procedure. If preexistence is a possibility on this basis, post-existence follows easily. We find an almost paradigmatic expression of this view in William Wordsworth's, "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality": Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar: Not in entire forgetfulness, And not in utter nakedness,

Individual Survival versus Reincarnation

195

But trailing clouds of glory do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Apart from the Indian traditions, pre-existence was favored by the British philosopher John McTaggart, who among other things said that pre-existence helped explain why we are attracted to particular people in this life. It is also found in the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, whose theory is not fully developed, being linked to pictorial, bodily, and spatial forms of such earlier life. But Mormons, oddly enough, do not believe in reincarnation. Their doctrine of the afterlife is one of the most developed of any practicing religion. Mormons are able to arrange on earth marriages that will be eternal. They also claim the possibility of arranging that deceased family members, going back to the distant past, may be baptized into the Mormon faith, provided that thorough checking of the elaborate genealogical records carefully collected establishes the forebears' names. Thus, transactions made in the present time can assure that those who died before the faith of Latter-Day Saints was set forth can secure a proper place in the afterlife. I find little by way of argument or evidence to support such claims and, except for subtleties in Plato's theory of knowledge, little by way of rational argument. Interestingly, Christian theology has leant itself to the idea of a preexistent Christ who came to earth from Heaven. The linkages of this idea of an Incarnate Word with Philo Judaeus's logos doctrine are highly instructive. Contemporary Buddhists have also developed the theory that the historical Siddhartha Gautama was simply one in a long line of pre-existing Buddhas who came to earth over a period of time. Indeed, any doctrine of reincarnation carries that idea with it. 5. Individual Survival versus Reincarnation Millions of Buddhists, Hindus, and Jains hold that individuals are reincarnated in other bodies and have different biographies over the years, in accord with the impersonal but absolute law of karma. I have spoken about this before. If a person has been mean and ruthless in this life, they will surely return and suffer the consequences of that bad behavior in the next life. And if a person has been kind and long-suffering in this life, they will secure a somewhat better existence in the next one. We cannot escape from the consequences of our deeds, good or bad. No redemption, forgiveness of sins, or salvation exists except as we work it out in accord with the karmic consequences. We experience successive lives until we are worthy of the goal, be it Nirvana, absorption in the One, or liberation. This view has a great history, being older than views now prominent in the West, and perhaps contemporaneous with those in China. But generally, Taoists

196


and Confucians do hold to individual survival, as has been noted. Western religious believers have some trouble with reincarnation, seeing it as impersonal and as implicitly denying the unique value of each individual. Thus, the "next life" of a reincarnated soul really has no memory of any preceding ones. If a baby is born blind or incapacitated, it suffers because of what it did in some previous existence. It does not know what it is being punished for. And should it attain an age of understanding, it would still not be able to determine what it had done that brought about this distressing situation. Yet, again and again we are told that whatever the circumstances of paurand suffering in this life, they are fully deserved. But we have the chance to improve our status in this life and so affect favorably the next life. But what of the nature of finite individuality now? Is it merely the product of an underlying atman whose ultimate destiny is the realization of God after eons of time, as a Hindu might teach? Or is it a mere moment in an ongoing stream of consciousness that continues on the wheel of rebirth and suffering until it attains the impersonal bliss of Nirvana? "It is better not to be born at all," say some Buddhists, and the goal of any stream is "extinction without remainder." Western religious minds see reincarnation as the denial of the uniqueness and intrinsic value of each individual person. If I am only part of an ongoing eternal substance or a moment in a constantly flowing stream, of what significance or value am I during a normal life span? Is my aim to fulfill my individual potential for value and creativity or is it to overcome my individuality in a state of egolessness? Jews, Christians, and Muslims would see the goal of life as one in which they would attain individual immortality and life in a future family or community of individuals, all of whom enter into some joyful growing relationship or fellowship with God. If God loves particular beings now, is not their particularity worth preserving? This is one of the great issues dividing philosophers of different cultures. Attempts have been made to bridge the gap, but that can only be done at the expense of metaphysical and ethical clarity. To put it simply, the option is an either/or. Am I unalterably part of a larger whole whose individual identity and value are unimportant or am I a uniquely created being that retains its identity once created and whose value is found in its uniqueness? Apparently, this issue will have to be decided based on our general philosophical outlook. In the case of reincarnation, life after death is an absolute requirement for belief. Is the same the case on the more characteristic view? (This has led to an impersonal view, which is to be considered here.) 6. Conditional Immortality The traditions of Zoroastrians, Jews, Christians, and Muslims have long maintained that not all individuals are to be immortal in the same way. Indeed, those who have sinned and done wrong will suffer the consequences of their

Claims about Future General History: Eschatology

197

deeds in a place of darkness and punishment. The Parsees called this the "House of Lie," and the Jews spoke of "Sheol." Christians and Muslims speak of Hell, a place of eternal damnation. It may be that all souls are immortal in that they will survive physical death, but some will find enjoyment in Heaven and others will find unending sadness in Hell. Literature and art have vividly portrayed these alternative states. And vociferous preachers have vigorously and unrelentingly warned people that unless they believe and do specific things they will have to endure an eternity of pain, torture, and punishment. In the Roman Catholic tradition, the apparently more humane idea has been brought forward that a person can make amends for sins and wrongs after death in a state of existence called Purgatory, where they can be purged. We can even say prayers for those in Purgatory and perform offices for them so that they may more readily achieve Heaven. These are religious ideas, but what is their philosophic significance? They affirm that the universe is a moral order, that we cannot flaunt the moral law and expect no justice. The Roman Catholic view hints of moral progress in the life to come, that hope exists even for those who have caused great harm and oppression. It recognizes the severity of the view that says that destiny is forever fixed because of failures or successes in the short span of earthly years. Does God provide capital punishment? Can we entertain such ideas in the broad general sense'as being philosophically true? Is death ever final? Some thinkers have offered the view of conditional immortality, which suggests that perhaps some of those individuals who have exhausted any chance for moral growth and redemption may have their existence cut off, may be annihilated. God in his moral wisdom would see that some individuals are so evil that they have, in their freedom, removed all possibility of future moral growth. In that circumstance, they would not be allowed to exist any longer. Does such a thing as capital punishment exist in the afterlife? (Whether that possibility acts as a deterrent in this life, I leave open.) 7. Claims about Future General History: Eschatology The task of a philosopher is not ordinarily to make assertions about the future. Philosophy of history as a discipline is one of the most difficult, and philosophers usually shy away from it. But in looking over the claims of religious people in the past and at present, we find millions upon millions of believers who make claims about what the future holds for humanity in general. Claims about the long-range future are not fundamental in the religions of India, and little is said about what is to come in Confucianism, Taoism, and Shintoism. Their view of history tends to be cyclical, but when we look at the religions of the Near East—which tend to take time seriously and which view human history as an arena in which the goals and purposes of the Supreme Being are to be accomplished or not—the story is different. The religions of Zoroastrianism, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam have persisted in claiming that

198


world history is moving in a definite direction, and that some day in the future some striking events will occur in which the triumph of a supernatural deity will eventuate. We find differences and distinctions among these faiths and also within them, but generally they propose a future Judgment Day when history as we know it will stop and God will rule. I cannot go into the diverse claims about the future, but they do bulk large in the popular mind and I will mention some. Zoroastrians have a picturesque view that holds that at the Judgment Day all souls will have to cross the Chinvat Bridge. This Judgment Day will mark the end of time. Ahura Mazda, the God of goodness and light, will finally triumph over the powers of his evil counterpart, Ahriman or Angra Mainyu. All souls, including those long deceased, will be required to cross the Chinvat Bridge, a razor-like edge. Those who have lived worthy lives will cross successfully 'and dwell with the Supreme Lord in the "House of Song," and those in whom-the balance of evil is heavier than good will slip off the bridge into the "House of Lie." The Jewish view is not so picturesque, but the idea of an end of time when the Messiah will come and will be the sole ruler is surely to be found. Christians of all types and subtypes have claimed all sorts of unusual things about the "last days." The earlier believers envisioned the imminent return of Christ, and they eagerly sought to prepare themselves for that glorious day. As time went on, thinkers such as Saint Augustine formulated reflective theories about all of human history and especially "the last days." Augustine saw all of history as a conflict between the Children of Light and the Children of Darkness, good and evil. In the end, upon the return of Jesus, who will come to judge "the quick and the dead," God will rule forever. Some Muslims hold to a similar view, urging that one day the Mahdi will come back and those who have been faithful and just will find their heavenly reward while the evildoers will spend an eternity in Hell. Discussions of such things have occupied the attention of many sects. One group, the Jehovah's Witnesses, foresees a final battle of Armageddon in which good will finally triumph over evil. Their belief has motivated thousands of door-to-door religious salespersons who issue warnings of impending doom and hold out prospects for those who are properly saved. In addition, much religious and television time is given over to predictions of this sort— predictions that are presumably based on scriptural citations. We find premillennialists, post-millennialists, and a-millennialists. Their number is legion. A great deal of energy is spent in contentious effort to set forth the proper'view of what will happen. Most persons are aware of such preachments and have heard of groups that tried to calculate the time of the end of history, some selling all they had and making ready for a precise day in a particular year. Some carry around placards warning of impending doom. Albert Schweitzer thought that even the ethics of the New Testament had to be viewed as an ethic to be used while waiting for the final days.

Claims about Future General History: Eschatology

199

When religious minds spend so much time and energy on such topics, the philosopher scarcely knows where to begin. Indeed, perhaps philosophers should bow out of the discussion altogether and turn the matter over to the psychiatrists and psychotherapists. So little appeals to rationality. Florid descriptions and vivid anticipations of things to come, still so rampant, perhaps could have been forgiven in the time of Augustine in the fourth century or even in the days of Dante Alighieri in the fourteenth century, but the talk and the near fanaticism still persist. In recent years, some Muslims have seemed to outdo Christians in their descriptions of the future state. Such assertions have little support in reason. Predictions that can be taken as certainties are difficult enough even in the exact fields of science, but to contend that we can predict what will happen for all humankind and human history, based on passages in Holy Writ, the Bible, or the Koran, may be regarded at best as sincere but misguided expressions of religious fervor and commitment and at worst as dangerous and misleading fanaticism, which has issued in many cases of bizarre if not inhuman and unkind behavior toward others. The thoughtful person must not be misled into thinking that the vocal presentations of apocalyptic computations and visions of the future are examples of normative religion. Indeed, many more healthier and quieter minds engage in religious practices without any such interests. Unfortunately, such arguments against religious futurism seem to carry little weight with devotees. Efforts to decide the meaning and truth of claims based on allegedly authoritarian scriptural revelations seem hopeless and useless, unless we recognize that the dedicated appeal to Scriptures yields so many conflicting and contradictory results. No significant religious leader has spent as much time on such matters as have those who claim to be their followers. Note also that despite the vagaries of religious claims about coming events, religions of the Near East may be said to offer hope for the future at least, namely, that some change for the better will occur, that good will triumph, or as Hegel put it, that spirit will win out. The deeper question of whether history is going some place or is an endless round of change without direction seems to be the underlying issue!

Eleven THE COGNITIVE QUESTION In recent years, a question implied in earlier times has come to the fore in discussing the philosophy of religion. Put simply, it asks: Does all the religious talk throughout the world really refer to anything? Do the statements used by believers actually refer to or point to anything that truly is the case? Is the language used by believers cognitive? Can religious statements be regarded as true or false or are such statements by nature incapable of verification or disconfirmation? If religious language does not refer to anything factual or anything actually existing, what then is its use and what can it mean, if anything? Note that this is not the same kind of query that ponders whether religious claims and proposals are simply true or false. That is a fairly straightforward issue. It has long divided believers from nonbelievers and devotees from antagonists who declare that the whole religious enterprise is fraudulent and superstitious and should be abandoned outright. Such antagonists may even claim that religious beliefs and practices are marks of psychological immaturity, even mental illness. On the other hand, some contemporary analysts will say that religious language and discussion is basically nonsense but at the same time that it is important nonsense and thus must be looked at instead of being rejected outright. Observe, then, that those who say today that religious language is not cognitive, that it is not subject to verification or denial, are nevertheless interested to discuss in what way we are to take it, and how it may be used without being rejected. I shall consider below a number of the different views that have developed. Significantly, thinkers who claim that religious language is noncognitive may still be involved in religious activities. Some are ordained clergy. Their views have come into prominence primarily in Western thought among thinkers who are practicing Christians and Jews. It is found largely in English-speaking countries, although some small carry-over is seen in other parts of the world. The noncognitivist position arose as a result of some general philosophical innovations that can be traced to the rise of logical positivism in Vienna just after World War I. Here the emphasis was on strict verification procedures, following the lead of scientific advance. Ideas, theories, or factual claims that could not be tested directly or at least in principle by strict canons of verifi ability were not worthy of serious consideration or discussion. For example, we can verify the oak tree as existing merely by perception. We cannot yet definitely verify all the features of the outermost planet, Neptune, but, in principle, we know of the possibility of doing so some day. When it comes to objects of religious belief, we cannot even in principle verify the

202

THE COGNITIVE QUESTION

presence or absence, the existence or nonexistence of such objects. Our talk about them has then no referent. Our language about the oak tree and the chemical make-up of the planet Neptune is cognitive because the objects referred to can be checked and verified. If we are to talk about God or life after death, we are using language that is noncognitive because no way exists of getting any data, even in principle, to accomplish the verification. A. J. Ayer remarked: "To say God exists is to make a metaphysical utterance which cannot be either true or false."1 At best, they are emotive or expressive utterances. Similarly, other traditional questions in metaphysics and axiology are to be viewed as pointless because verification is impossible. This putting away of many of the so-called standard questions of traditional philosophy has become influential. On ethical issues, we cannot adequately determine what is right or wrong. Thus, statements we might make about duty, the good, responsibility, and morality are to be regarded as merely emotional responses expressing approval or disapproval. In aesthetics, even the possibility of having a theory has been denied. And any hope of finding a way to determine what is truly great artistically is doomed to fail because verification procedures are not possible. In philosophy of religion, two directions emerged in which we could go. The first, following the impulse of the original logical positivism, could say that religious talk was sheer, muddled nonsense unworthy of any serious philosophical attention. While religious phenomena might be studied by the historian, the anthropologist, the psychologist, or the sociologist, they have no real place in the philosopher's world. The second point of view, which grew out of more rigorous efforts at language analysis itself, evolved into somewhat sectarian points of view that generally held that religious language should be treated sympathetically, that it represented a vital and important feature in the lives of many thoughtful people and therefore should be studied for what it did, for how effective it was. We might, therefore, affiliate with a religious group, enjoy the various benefits of the religious community, and never once raise the question of truth or falsity. The results of this approach have been intriguing if not widely influential. As a result of some of the later analytical work of Ludwig Wittgenstein, the concept of a "language game" developed. Applied to religious experience, this means that when we choose a religion we are choosing to participate in a language game. Once any game is played, to ask questions about its truth or falsity is obviously improper. We enter the game in a spirit of interest, play according to its rules, and enjoy its features and subtleties as they have accrued during the development of the game. For us to step outside to judge or challenge a game's rules and methods while we are playing it is improper. I will show later just how this approach relates to religion. But before I examine such sophisticated views, let us recognize that religious language has been a puzzle to many at different levels.


203

(1) In some cases, religious language is accepted and believed, while analysis is shunned. From simply observing the way religious people behave, worship, and speak, many of them evidently do not worry about cognitive questions. They do not seem to give much heed to the cognitive significance of the claims that are made in their presence or on their behalf. They mouth formulas, mantras, and creeds, and engage in ritual responses, listen to preachers, and seldom seem to take the language as meaning much or as referring to actual reality. They listen, may have vague feelings of uplift, and may be charmed by patterns of words, which when looked at thoughtfully seem little more than poetic sound patterns, however ingratiating they may be. Religious language is usually soothing, calling forth pleasant associations and responses, but seldom does any analytical appraisal of what is being said take place. The language is appreciated for its own sake. (i) Illustrations of this can be found in several cultures. Note the reluctance with which older Roman Catholic worshipers accept the switch in the language of the mass from the traditional Latin to the speech of the country in which they live. The Mass said in traditional Latin has more charm and attraction for them. Similarly, some English-speaking Protestants shy away from modern translations of the Bible, preferring the language of the Authorized Version of 1611. It seems more in keeping with their religious feelings, even though that language (despite its poetic beauty) is archaic and even confusing at times. Jewish boys and girls who come of age participate in their Bar Mitzvah or Bat Mitzvah in traditional Hebrew, often learned just for the one occasion. A Shinto priest, Sokyo Ono, writing about his religion, points out that the prayers read or recited at Shinto shrines "are in classical Japanese which was intelligible when it was the prevailing language, but it is not understood by people unless they have made a special study of the subject."2 Prayers, he adds, were composed in this same style "in order that the mystic feeling embodied in the manner of addressing the kami, which had been inherited from great antiquity, might be transmitted intact to future generations."3 In the Sikh tradition, we find that the Holy Scripture, the Granth, which in some places is read in relays around the clock, is in six different languages with dialect variation, and scarcely anyone listens, reads, or understands all of them equally well. The words are revered in and of themselves. Muslims, in countries where Arabic is not the spoken language, must nevertheless learn their prayers and Scripture passages in the Arabic because it is the language of the Koran, the very language of Allah. The words have an intrinsic appeal even when the native believer cannot translate them. And in the Hindu tradition, we even see a developed philosophical school, the Purva Mimamsa, founded by Jaimini, which regards the language of the Vedas as eternal and intrinsically moving; but they deny any cognitive referents. Accordingly, a person uses the names of God, but those names are nouns employed in the dative case as objects to which offerings and oblations are made. The four Vedas are more

204


basic than any theological idea they might contain..Indeed, the words of the Vedas have power over the gods, if any exist. Parallels to this attitude of religious believers are found in other areas of life. When a college alumna sings that she will be "ever faithful" or "loyal" to her school or sorority, the words are scarcely taken as literal. The emotional tone or sentiment is what counts. Fraternal pledges of undying allegiance to something or other are scarcely to be regarded literally. But to analyze such collections of words critically would be seen as both overbearing and gauche. Precision cannot be asked for in patriotic moments either. We enjoy the sentiments that hover about the received verbiage, but we do not distill exact meanings. In such cases, we see without difficulty much that is appealing and charming in poetic, traditional language. We cannot expect perfect clarity in the language of the patriot or the dedicated club member. Is that not also the case with the language of religion? The cognitive question seems of minor importance. The charm, color, excitement, and actual enjoyment of many areas of human existence is enhanced by language that has no cognitive significance. (ii) But more than just emotional value attaches to traditional unanalyzed language. Some people mouth creedal statements that in themselves are unmeaning or that require extensive clarification and interpretation if understanding is to occur. (iii) Apart from the words themselves, some people insist on patterns of language and creeds, which they claim are in some sense cognitive but which when taken literally can hardly mean much. Fundamentalists mouth doctrines and teachings without trying to clarify what they could possibly mean. At the risk of irritating some, consider the common Christian belief that Christ died for our sins. For some adherents, to say Jesus died for you—indeed for the sins of all humankind—is a matter of strong piety. But what can that mean in a literal context? Jesus is the Savior of the world, the Son of God who takes away peccata mundi. How does that work when someone asks questions about time? Did his atoning death take away the sins of the millions of people who lived before he did, including Neanderthal human beings and those who lived in the Olduvai Gorge? And did his atoning death remove the sins of the Aztecs, the South Sea islanders, the Laplanders, and the pygmies of southwest Africa? The answer usually given is that if anyone believes that Jesus is the Savior, then their sins are removed. This applies to all future generations as well. Thus, a person's death in about 30 A.D. can erase everyone's sin who now believes, along with anyone who has not yet been born and who has therefore not yet even sinned. As yet uncommitted sins are already forgiven, even though we do not know who this person is and what he or she might do by way of sin. All a person must do is believe that the sins are indeed forgiven. To make literal and careful sense out of this phrasing is difficult. And perhaps not to try is better. But have we then the right to mouth the formula and urge its meaning when that meaning is inexplicable? Because we seem unable to treat traditional


205

creeds cognitively, the problem of religious language arises naturally, even before philosophers work on it. (2) But the history of religion also contains persons who are careful to distinguish the charms of religious language itself (and even the formulated creeds) from language that they deem cognitive. The Scriptures of the various religions obviously contain literary figures, metaphors, similes, hyperboles, and the like. Much of the attraction of religious language is found, as has been said, in its power to stimulate the imagination. Some thinkers retain their faith and willingly make such distinctions. The depictions of the future Pure Land for Mahayana Buddhists include lotus blossoms a mile in diameter. That any practicing Buddhist believes that literally is highly doubtful, but the exaggeration implies a future state of charming bliss. Jews, Christians, and Muslims speak of the hand of God. Not one of them would maintain that God does in fact have two thumbs and eight fingers, tendons, eight knuckles, blood vessels, nerves, and fingernails. Indeed, even to picture God in any physical form is something both Judaism and Islam vigorously oppose. The early Jewish philosopher, Philo Judaeus, as H. A. Wolfson points out, stated that no anthropomorphic expression about God is to be taken literally.4 And, he added, such language "is for training and admonition, not because God's nature is such, that these words are used." Even the most literalistic person cannot say that "tongues walked the earth." But where do we draw the line between figurative, appreciative, religious language and language that is cognitive, that may be taken as referring to an actual state of affairs? Poetic, metaphorical language is common in devotional literature and has suggestive power. Was Philo too radical when he suggested that stories like Adam and Eve should be taken allegorically? He wrote: "It is quite foolish to think that the world was created in six days or in space and time at all."5 He thinks it impossible to be literal about "one serpent projecting a human voice, playing the sophist with an utterly guileless character, and deceiving a woman with seductive persuasion."6 At the same time, neither Philo nor many of those who are believers would aver that all the language of religion is figurative or should be treated allegorically or noncognitively. (3) Another common recognition about ordinary religious language in every religion is that the words employed, however charming and satisfying, need to be interpreted to uncover the deeper and significant meanings they conceal. While some may be taken literally and some figuratively, we still need to provide richer meanings and interpretation. The effort to determine fuller meanings is one of the motives for the varying translations of religious classics in countries where the language of the Scriptures is not the usual spoken language. Since 1881, for example, a dozen translations of the Bible into English have been made. Often the motive is to bring out some theological point favored by the sponsor of the translation. Similarly, several prominent English translations of the Bhagavad Gita have been made, each sponsored by a

206


particular philosophical or theological school, seemingly in order to emphasize a special viewpoint. The quest for clarity of meaning in the traditional scriptural language is illustrated again and again by the commentary literature that has developed along with the received classics. The Muslims have the Hadith, the Jews the Talmud, Mishnah, and other rabbinical writings, and large numbers of sutras and explanatory materials exist in traditional Buddhism and Hinduism. Some of the earliest efforts to clarify the theological ideas implanted in the Vedas have themselves become important religious writings, namely, the.Upanishads. These are efforts that are conscious of the problems in usual religious language. The search is for the implied meanings, but while the language involved may at times be obscure, no overall claim is made that the language is noncognitive. Here we may justifiably ask: What are the referents? To point out that religious believers and careful thinkers recognize that the language of their Scriptures and the ordinary language of religious usage needs to be clarified and some distinctions made is not enough, for as I have said some philosophers raise questions about the whole of religious language itself and view it as noncognitive. Before the relatively recent school of language-game theorists developed, theologians in the Christian tradition maintained that religious language is to be taken as symbolic, not literal. While such thinkers might continue to use the accepted language of religion, they proposed that we must treat it as symbolic and noncognitive. This view has its roots in existentialism and developed partly as a result of the growth of modern science, which seemed to vacate the literal claims of religious believers. This approach partly grew up as a result of European biblical criticism in the Western world. A leading exponent of it was Rudolf Bultmann. He took, for example, some of the stories and events reported in the New Testament and suggested that they were not to be taken literally at all but instead as "form-stories," Formgeschichte. A person could then search out the deeper meanings underlying the stories and could find symbolic meanings. Symbolic truths cannot be verified and cannot be tested in any usual sense. Bultmann was "anxious to escape the level of the verifiable," and, accordingly, aimed to "demythologize" the devotional language of religion. All propositions about God are to be taken as symbolic. "To predicate loving or suffering of one who is infinite and unconditioned is to snap the links of every intelligible use of these words." But Bultmann holds that all utterance about God is analogical and therefore irreducible and mythological. Religious symbols enable us to avoid the category of the "evidential." Thus, we do not talk about God being provable. God is immune from proof, for if provable he would be one item among others. More widespread and more searching in the position that religious language should be treated symbolically and noncognitively is the recent thinker Paul Tillich. He does not confine himself to the language of the Christian tradition but would suggest its applicability to all religions. In one of

Analyses of the Character of Religious Language

207

the clearest things he has written, part of a symposium on his thought, Tillich expressed his view this way: symbols must, he says, "express an object that by its very nature transcends everything in the world that is split into subjectivity and objectivity. A real symbol points to an object which can never become an object: Religious symbols represent the transcendent but do not make the transcendent immanent. They do not make God a part of the empirical world."7 An even more direct statement expressing his view and showing unmistakably that his position is noncognitive is found in Tillich's "The Meaning and Justification of Religious Symbols." He discusses doctrines that many believers take as referring to the way things actually are. A second level of primary religious symbolism is the way in which religion speaks of divine actions such as creation, Providence, miracles, incarnation, consummation, and so on. To emphasize the symbolic character of these symbols is especially important because they are often understood literally, with the consequence that they fall into insoluble difficulties with the scientific interpretation of reality.8 Tillich's point is that religious assertions, while not to be taken literally, point to deep truths about the world and life. These truths can be expressed in no other way except possibly in art. They cannot be put into intelligible rational concepts because they conflict with a scientific account, but they are nonetheless of great human importance. Religious commitment expresses a human being's ultimate concern. Traditional talk about God and attempts to prove the existence of God are not only irrelevant but misdirected. An Ultimate Being exists, but that being is not the same as the God religious believers talk about. The question of validating the claims of a religious believer by reason never arises because such a process is foreign to committed believers. Tillich may assume a scientific realism or naturalism in his metaphysics and, thus, rule out any other metaphysics as being false. But to do so is at least question-begging. 1. Analyses of the Character of Religious Language In the last several decades, a group of philosophers have been developing theories that try to take into account the unique qualities and values of religion by noting the uses of religious language. While they too, like the positivists, insist on strict verification procedures for gaining reliable knowledge, they wish to pay heed to the values to be found in religious traditions and language. Instead of talking about the validity and truth of religious claims, they undertake to analyze the language religious believers use and thereby preserve some of its uniqueness. The positivists are too arbitrary when they deny that the truth and meanings of religious experience are simply in error or are not worth discussing. They do not care to speak so much of the question of truth as they do the issue of meaning. Meaning and value are to be found, then, in religious talk apart from any consideration of the truth claims of religious believers.

208


Several different aspects of the general language-analysis approach to religion may be identified, but I initially observe only some of its broad traits. First, it takes the language of a religious tradition seriously. It does not make much of distinctions between figurative and literal religious language, because all religious language by its very nature speaks about topics that cannot in any way be substantially verified. Nor does it address the problems of religious language by detecting allegories or symbolic usage. It offers a fresh way of appreciating religious language. It maintains that we should retain the values of religious language without discussing or considering its claims to be telling the truth. Since the claims of religious believers about God, the world, salvation, a future life, morality, and so on are by nature unable to be tested in any thoroughly scientific or analytic way, we may ask how we are to treat religious talk itself. Instead of focusing on intrinsic meanings, we might perhaps find meanings in contexts, in actual use. How is the language of religion employed? When this sort of question is asked we begin to notice that various statements seem to have their own logic. The task would be to determine the logic of the religious language as we find it. Accordingly, the idea of a language-game arose, and it has proved fruitful in understanding religious talk. When we decide to participate in some game, we accept the logic and language of that game, play according to the agreed-upon rules, employ the specialized language of that game, and enjoy it for its values apart from outside considerations. Thus, when I decide to play chess or baseball, I adopt the language and tactics of the game. I may not in the midst of a game of chess decide that the moves of the knight suddenly be switched to the moves of a pawn. Nor can anyone playing the game rename all the pieces, redefine the intent of the game, and declare that winning really means capturing both of the opponent's bishops. To talk about the truth of a chess game is to speak unintelligibly. But that nothing is true or false about chess does not for a moment take away the values, possible joys, challenges, competition, or any other enduring qualities the game might have. Within any game of chess, all sorts of possible moves and subtleties exist—initiatory moves that may condition the mid-game, subtle gambits that may bring a sudden victory, and matters of etiquette, such as not touching a piece we are not going to move—all of which make the game of chess enthralling and a delight to millions of people throughout the world. A game of chess has its own logic, even its own grammar. We may elect to play some other game at any time, but to doubt or to challenge the game of chess itself after we have chosen to play it, is both unheard of and absurd. The same is the case when a religious language game is played. We adopt the traditions, principles, language practices, and techniques of the religion and thereby find immense value and satisfaction. To ask for the truth of a religious game is as absurd as to ask for the "truth" of a game of chess. A religion has its own internal logic. Its meaning and value are found in use, in a context. An outsider or a person within another context cannot grasp

Analyses of the Character of Religious Language

209

the values of the first. Nor would such an outsider be able to say anything critical of a religious game if he or she were not a participant in it. Just as in a game of chess, we make judgments about the brilliance or sloppiness of a move, and those judgments have a contextual meaning. For a person not involved in-a game to evaluate it from an external point of view is wholly inappropriate. Indeed, a person who knows nothing about the rules of chess is not equipped to make remarks about the game. Among those who hold to this general position, we find several differing interpretations and variations. D. Z. Phillips, for example, affirms that religious believers learn a language that they participate in. To know how to use the language is, then, to know God.9 Language games are invulnerable to critics from the outside: The internal transactions constituting a given language-game are thus invulnerable to criticism from outside that particular complex of life and language—from which it follows that religious utterances are immune to scientific and other nonreligious comment.10 Alasdair Maclntyre" thinks of religious statements as recommendations of a way of life, not as truth claims. To accept a religious faith is a matter of choice or commitment, not a question of testing its truth claims. No way exists, then, to move logically from unbelief to belief, and once we adopt a faith, we stay within its precincts as defined by some authoritative source. He writes: "Every religion is defined by reference to what it accepts as an authoritative criterion. . . . The acceptance or rejection of religion is thus the acceptance or rejection of such an authority."" R. Braithwaite takes a similar position. Religious assertions are not claims about the way things really are; they are not testable by experience nor are they necessary propositions, but they have a use and have some meaning. They express commitment to a way of life. They are like moral judgments, for they make no factual claims and cannot be tested in any ordinary sense. Religious stories need not, he notes, be true, but they give support to commitments. He writes: "Thoughts like doing the will of God give psychological support to some behavior; they do not logically justify it. . . . It is not necessary that the stories be true—what is necessary is that the story should be entertained in thought. . . . Religious stories have a psychological benefit because people sometimes carry out actions against their inclinations if a policy is associated in their minds with certain stories." R. M. Hare suggests that the acceptance of a religious faith is not a commitment so much as it is an attitude toward the world. He calls such attitudes "bliks" to distinguish them from other attitudes. Religion is, thus, a propensity of the soul and nothing can be offered that could validate its claims, for religious claims are by their very nature unfalsifiable. When we have a belief in a good God, for example, nothing can count against that belief:

210


Evidence indicating that God is not good is inadmissible, for nothing God does could possibly be construed as bad.12 Hare's view is in line with that earlier voiced by David Hume.13 For Hume, religion is the expression of an instinct or attitude, and the proof of such an attitude is never the same as that which can be offered to prove a judgment of fact. Religious beliefs cannot be affected by arguments either for or against. The irrelevance of questions about truth in discussing religious claims is sharply put by Stuart C. Brown who says: "Religious beliefs are unintelligible to the unbeliever by virtue of his being an unbeliever."14 2. Critical Evaluation and Questions On the positive side, the linguistic noncognitivist position is a position that, unlike militant atheism or strong opposition to all religions, tries to respect historical usage and honor practices many have found meaningful for centuries. It leaves things as they are and does not provoke wrath and dissension by denying deeply held beliefs of ordinary believers and ancient widespread traditions. Thus, noncognitivists escape the charge of skepticism by placing the whole range of religious beliefs outside the range of rational discussion. They generally have respect for the underlying emotional and social values of religion without attacking it or challenging it in any way. They are able to do this by redefining the nature of religion itself, and I commend their ingenuity. But a number of critical questions may be asked. The first has to do with the metaphor of game. To introduce that term in discussing religious phenomena and claims seems misleading, inappropriate, and even repugnant. (1) It is misleading because it reduces the vast complex of religious experience in both space and time to an unusually simplistic formula, which itself does not admit of further analysis. I wonder whether the criticism of language philosophy itself is not also to be viewed as a game, even when undertaken seriously. Consequently, noncognitivism seems like little more than a clever "out" that allows us to let things remain the same without disturbing anyone. Hume, the grandfather of this viewpoint, wrote: "If my philosophy makes no addition to the arguments for religion, I have at least the satisfaction to think it takes nothing from them but that everything remains precisely as before." This observation is remarkably like the one Wittgenstein applied to all philosophy—it leaves things as they are. The philosopher's job is to be a therapist, to clear up muddles, not to decide whether the assertions of religion are true or false. But that is not what sincere religious believers think. Things do not remain precisely as before. Just as games themselves occasionally evolve from within, so too do religious beliefs. While sticks and round stones might have sufficed for native Americans, rackets and balls are now used in competitive lacrosse games. Similarly, the earliest followers of Judaism viewed their deity

Critical Evaluation and Questions

211

as virtually a tribal despot among many gods, while later thinkers thought of the deity as merciful, loving, and the God of all peoples, a universal deity. Things do not remain the same in religious "games." Suppose someone were to suggest that noncognitivist language be employed to understand other significant human experiences. Could we not then say that the marriage game is played, or the justice game is played? Would knighted British philosophers be willing to apply game theory to patriotism and the military? The game metaphor implies a lack of seriousness. After all, we can live a fairly decent life without playing any games at all. Language philosophers persistently use another metaphor in their talk. They use the ambiguous word "move" for argument or reason. We may well make "moves" in a chess game, but no "moves" occur in normal religious experiences. Furthermore, the metaphor of game is inappropriate with regard to religion because it fails to distinguish types and levels of games. Are not some games subtle and intriguing, while other games are obvious and simple? So too in religious experience: levels of simplicity and complexity are distinguishable as well as degrees of earnestness in application and practice. Arguably, for many believers on the popular sentimental level, religion is treated as a game. But it is not and has not been so regarded by Saint Francis, Ramakrishna, Moses Mendelssohn, Al-Ghazali, or millions of other less-prominent devotees. Similarly, religions evolve and develop, and within any historical religion all sorts of differences, even tensions, exist. Are these all to be seen as merely attitudes with no possible justification in thought? And what of Maclntyre's idea of a recognized authority? Are no better or worse authorities present in a religious game? And has any religion ever been so fixed that it is by nature a game? Indeed, arguably far more variety exists in any historic religion than is found in any conceivable game. Accordingly, the metaphor of a game is misleading and unfair to the phenomena of religion. Several religions base their doctrines on alleged historical events that can surely be checked by the usual techniques of investigation whether we are believers or not. We simply may not treat the claims of any one religion as unverifiable, nor may we ignore actual differences felt among the half of the world's population that remains unalterably religious. When the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints claims that its teachings are based on Scriptures from golden tablets unearthed near Palmyra, New York, by Joseph Smith, the presence or absence of such tablets would in principle be subject to the criterion of verifiability. And if their presence could in no way be confirmed, would not some essential teachings of the Mormons have to be vacated in spite of the many practical benefits of that faith as lived out by both the Salt Lake City branch and the Reorganized Church of Independence, Missouri? Does the language-game theorist simply say that Mormonism need not regard historical denials seriously because the story gives psychological support to beneficial behavior, or that Mormon language "is

212


invulnerable to criticism from outside" and "immune to scientific and other nonreligious comment"? The repugnance of the game metaphor is readily seen if we were to suggest to ordinary believers that what they are doing in their religious life is really little more than playing a game, that their claims about the efficacy of prayer, the existence of a spiritual world, and the hope for life after death are merely words that, though useful and comforting, have no connection with the world as it really is. Can an earnest Muslim who disciplines himself to pray five times a day or who fasts during the daylight hours of Ramadan entertain seriously the idea that he or she is involved in a game based on stories that have marked psychological benefit but no reference whatsoever to the way things really are or will be? The attitudes of awe and reverence found among Muslims and other serious believers is not at all comparable to feelings commonly found while participating in games. To be sure, games exhibit excitement and sometimes fierce loyalties associated with various teams. But sincere religious believers who may enjoy recreational games scarcely think their religious activities are comparable. Are we seriously to propose that religious language has no more status than stories told children in the West regarding Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, or stories told children in China about the Queen of the Fairies? Children's stories affiliated with religious seasons have a charm and may even motivate children to be good because they will get more gifts from Santa Claus if they are. But children do not take much beyond the age of six in the West to see that the Santa Claus story is a pleasant diversion and kind of game for the very young but really is not true, having no reference to the way things really are. Can we also say that the doctrine and traditions of one of the world's old religions are little more than elaborations of Santa Claus fictions? This is why the game analogy is so useful, and, I think, so misleading. When we say, "the language game is played," to talk about the validity of the language while the game is being played is impossible. Someone who knows the rules and traditions of lacrosse has a set language and a meaningful context in which to work. But to ask lacrosse players whether the rules they had adopted were meaningful or true would be both wrong-headed and meaningless. Once the "game" is played, we dwell in it, and no external critic or outsider can speak intelligibly about it. From within, we can clarify rules, types of plays, and techniques for improvement. But we cannot judge lacrosse from the standpoint of cricket, any more than we can examine basketball critically by using baseball language. But all this begs some questions. Are religious experiences like games we play, with internal rules, accepted programs, and techniques that may not be judged or evaluated critically? Within the context of any religion, improvements and refinements can be made. Theology would simply be playing the religious game within the accepted general rules. Differences among Jewish or Muslim theologians would be all within the framework of the


213

"game," and they may be strict conservative or liberal interpretations. As in baseball, some unclarity surrounds the nature of a balk and some umpires are known to be stricter on the strike zone than others, but ncT one from outside the game itself would be talking or making any sense if they challenged the very idea of calling balls or strikes. Thus, in Christianity, a person accepts Jesus Christ as the Son of God, and then begins to interpret what that means within the "circle of faith." And no one dare ask whether it is true, for to do so is to deny the game that has been selected. (2) The second major criticism of the religious language-game view of religious phenomena and claims concerns its hidden and unexpressed metaphysical presuppositions. At its base, the linguistic approach to religion, which tries to preserve its values without seriously testing its claims to truth, presupposes a metaphysical naturalism or a scientific realism. It disallows any alternatives to a single general metaphysical stance and will not consider that other options are even theoretically possible because, almost by definition, it has ruled out any other possible metaphysics. Even so diligent a metaphysician as A. N. Whitehead—well aware of science and himself one of the greatest of mathematical thinkers—is not given any serious consideration by these linguistic thinkers because they are convinced that all truth about the real must come from science and only science. To grant the possibility of some form of explanation outside of science is, for that position, monstrous. But their criterion of scientific verifiability cannot be verified outside of a broader view of reason, which then would line up arguments for the principle of verifiability itself instead of adopting it as the only possible mode of explanation. I have yet to find a linguistic philosopher who will concede other philosophical modes of explanation outside of scientific verifiability. Ernest Gellner, in a virtually suppressed critique of early British linguistic philosophy, long ago noted the implicit "and presupposed metaphysical naturalism of these thinkers. Scientific realism may well be the only possible metaphysical position we could have in these days. If that is granted (and I do so grant it here), then perhaps we could see the serious effort of linguistic thinkers to preserve the values of religions though denying the truth thereof. If, however, we say that the only metaphysical view possible is naturalism or scientific realism and yet at the same time try to make use of traditional religious language without ever saying that it has any referent, that God is a name in a game, the larger question of the ethics of words crops up. If God is only a useful emotive term, part of a story to motivate faith or an expression of an attitude that generates pleasant emotions and deeds, the large question of honesty is involved. Think of the couplet from Robert Burns: I'd rather be an atheist clean than Under Gospel colors hid be for a screen

214


(3) A third criticism that may well stand alone if the second and first are disallowed is a challenge to the theory of meaning implied in the doctrine under consideration. It is an epistemological and logical objection. The so-called "linguistic turn" maintains that meaning is found in use. "Look for the use" becomes a watchword for this position. Thus, if we study the way words are used, we become clearer and make experience more intelligible, for what other way can meaning be grasped than in use? But if meaning is found in use, then when we enter into a pattern of usage, or a context of usage, the meanings come to depend on the pattern or the context. Accordingly, outside of the context or grammar of the words, no judgment or criticism can occur. As can readily be seen, this is the real logic of "the language game is played." We find meaning in use and only in use. We then study how words are used and note their placing and their shadings in a context, in a game. But we cannot then judge or evaluate any words outside of that context, because to do so is to miss the whole point that meaning is found in use. That meaning is found in use I take to be the central dogma of the linguistic theorists. It has been voiced in aesthetic theory as well, with the conclusion that since use determines meaning, no one could logically ever find a sound theory of art, for the very logic of the game of art precludes any external mode of judgment or evaluation. A true theory of art is logically impossible, as Morris Weitz says. No'philosopher of religion has been quite so blunt, but almost. Once we adopt a religious language and study its "grammar," we then stay within the context, within the game. All comments made about the game, the context, or its validity are consequently nonsense and irrelevant. But are meanings found only in use and in no other way? If they are fixed by usage alone, we cannot escape the linguistic position. If they are found elsewhere, perhaps in intrinsic meanings or in a coherence of meanings, then perhaps the linguistic view is vacated. Obviously, the logical questions here are substantial and more than I can undertake to discuss in detail. But a different view of the logic of meaning, a challenge to the meaning-use theory, at least raises doubts about the position. Furthermore, we cannot rest with the position that criticisms can be only internal, that is, that we cannot apply an external criticism to a religious doctrine. That the only relevant criticism of a view must be from inside is not at all clear. The simple point is that religious teachers do make claims about the universe, and while the doctrine of karma, for instance, is shared by Hindu, Buddhist, Jain, and Sikh believers, we can surely examine the question of its truth as to whether or not it clarifies and explains human experience better. More particularly, when a scientist or a philosopher claims to have evidence supporting reincarnation, we may surely evaluate it, whether we are in some Indian tradition or not. And if someone claims that suffering is produced in human experience by a devilish agency or demonic power called Satan, we will


215

not be silenced into saying that we cannot test that claim unless we- are within the tradition that has made the assertion. On such a question as Satan, those in the tradition in which that repugnant idea has developed have challenged it from within. But we may also challenge it from without. The philosophy of religion cannot be reduced to clarifying the grammar of a religion; it may ask whether the terms mentioned in that grammar point to anything, or not. To say that thought is circumscribed by a context or a game is just a form of skepticism that I find repugnant and unacceptable. That meanings are found only in use or only in context is not obvious, even though usage and context do help us understand some meanings. Think of how words are translated from another language and how synonyms are based. To say usage alone confers meaning is an assertion that is not self-supporting, for we must come to that position by showing how other positions are to be declared unsound. And what enables us to select a theory of meaning? Is it intuition? I was once told by some linguistic philosophers that if I opened myself to their view I would come to see that it was true, a position I have heard voiced by religious persons. If you once open yourself to our view you will see that it is true. If I am to accept the position that meaning is found in use, I will choose it as the best rational alternative to other theories of meaning, • and that itself presupposes a doctrine of meaning and clarity that itself cannot be the same as the meaning-use position. Again, the careful student will wish to examine this logical and epistemological problem in a more detailed way, but I hope that the choice made is for some reason, not merely because the view had an instinctive or intuitional appeal. (4) A fourth criticism is in order and may be phrased in the form of a question: What implications are seen to follow* from the position of the linguistic analysts of religion, those who deny that religious claims can be tested for their own sakes? (i) One possibility is that this position when considered thoroughly will lead to a doctrine of the double-truth, which I have already discussed. If we maintain that no religious claim is subject to adjudication or testing and cannot by its nature be verified, people will likely treat the claims of some religions as true in and of themselves even though not subject to logical testing. Kai Nielsen has shown this possibility in an article called "Wittgensteinian Fideias." Or to put it in more traditional language, we destroy reason as the measure of validity and thereby make room for faith. The canons of reason can never apply to religion, so religious truths are again off by themselves, self-validating in a sense but never subject to criticism and attack. Some years ago, a philosopher of religion by the name of Willem Zuurdeeg took this position, distinguishing between "analysis" and "faith" and maintaining that the two could never meet. A person sharing this view becomes a kind of split personality. One side of the person is vigorously analytic; the other side is given to faith uncritically,

216


perhaps as a revelation if that is a "game" involved. Observe that one of the leading followers of Wittgenstein is a rigorous, even conservative Roman Catholic but would not think (as the Roman Catholic tradition has invariably taught) that her views could be validated. (ii) A possibility akin to the position of the double-truth is a slightly different alternative, namely, that the language-game view of philosophy of religion lays open the idea of a leap of faith—not so much as a "gamble" but as an existential leap. On this view, we have no way of establishing any religious truth, whether Hindu or Muslim; so all that we can do is to niake a leap of faith and then remain faithful to that leap. But that is never how religious faith occurs; it is only a logical possibility defining, on this view, the only way a faith could be accepted. We choose it in an existential encounter. Whatever we choose would be as "true" as any other faith any other person might select in this nonrational fashion. As can be readily seen, this approach to religious truth claims is scarcely in accord with a philosophical approach to life and is shared by the barest minimum of professional thinkers in the field. While I hesitate to mention it, I must raise a question about the provenance of the linguistic approach to religion. Many general critics of religion as such who are prone to see it as a remnant of psychological immaturity or as a product of some unconscious social projection perhaps should have some interest in the geographical and historical background of this view. It had its origins in Oxford University and Cambridge University in England. It is a view studied in Germany and France but not one that originated in those lands or any other country of Europe, South America, Africa, or Asia. Its influence is felt in North America and Australia as echoes of the British approach. While its beginnings can be traced to the Vienna Circle, its impetus came from John Austin of Oxford and Wittgenstein of Cambridge. These thinkers did not have much interest in philosophy of religion, but their followers—some of whom held chairs in Christian thought at those two institutions—found and still do find the linguistic view congenial. They can on the one hand maintain a rigorous analytic logic and on the other profess a traditional faith. To suppose that some of the appeal of these later thinkers is traceable to this convenient and practical solution to an unsettling problem is not unreasonable: How do we maintain philosophical vigor and at the same time commit ourselves to a traditional faith? While we find some small application of linguistic philosophy to Judaism, it seems not to have had any but the smallest effect on Hindu and Buddhist thinkers and none on any other faith in China, India, and the Middle East. 3. The Cognitive View If after examination of noncognitive theories about the nature of religious language we are led to reject that position, we may then consider what types of

The Cognitive View

217

cognitive views exist. W. G. De Burgh in his Towards a Religious Philosophy says that regarding religion, "Cognition is both its presupposition and its outcome. . . . Every religion implies a world-view."15 And few philosophers of religion since the twelfth century would disagree with A. C. Knudson's observation: "The essential thing in faith is its objective validity." To say it another way, from the earliest beginnings of philosophical efforts to understand religious phenomena, the great bulk of philosophers have maintained that religious knowledge of some sort can be attained, that religious language is cognitive, and that it actually tells us something about the universe and life that we can take as being true. But note some of the different approaches to cognitive views. A. Orthodoxy Most religions, especially those with sacred Scriptures and some form of authority, maintain that Scriptures and traditional authorities impart truths about the world that can be accepted at face value. Reason may assist us in distinguishing poetic and metaphoric materials, but it cannot by itself test the truth or falsity of religious truths. It is not the final judge or arbiter. Tradition and authority may clarify meanings, but the body of faith may even be that "once delivered to the saints" it may be accepted as authentic and true. The idea of doubt is scarcely entertained by Muslims or Christians—even learned ones. The difficulties of this form of cognitive view become clear at once when we ask, "what orthodoxy and in what religion?" Does any single orthodox view exist? Claimants come forward and in the very nature of the case must declare that alternatives are heterodox or heresies. B. Fundamentalism or Literalism In several active religions, we find those who claim that the knowledge of religious ideas and historic claims as actually recorded in some Scriptures are literally true in every respect and may not be challenged. All statements in the Scriptures of a faith, except those that are unmistakably poetic, are to be taken unquestioningly as accurate and authentic. If the Jewish and Christian Scriptures report on the flood that encompassed the earth, or that Noah built an ark in which two of every species of animal were placed, then that is to be accepted as actually so. (Indeed, some people are still searching for that ark!) This approach is unheard of in Buddhism, Hinduism, Taoism, Confucianism, Shintoism, and Jainism—and is unlikely in Sikhism. It is prominent in Islam and Christianity and is also found in Judaism. Muslims regard the language of the Koran—Arabic—to be the language of Allah himself, once revealed directly to Mohammed. Some contemporary literalists in Protestant Christianity claim the "inerrancy" of the Bible, that it is accurate and true in every respect. Should someone be bothered by a particular event, such as the report of the sun

218


standing still, the axe swimming, or the donkey speaking, they are reminded that they must accept all as authentic because the whole is true. This position has been prominent in the last two decades in North America and has surprising support from moneyed and political interests. It is primarily anti-rational and anti-scientific and always divisive. The fact is that no one is really a full literalist, believing all scriptural reports as totally accurate and equally true. What happens is that the ethical demands are not taken literally, while reports of miracles such as turning water into wine are viewed as absolutely true. Some contemporary literalists will not even, speak on religious topics to persons in their own faith because to do so might breed doubt. The recent effects of Islamic Fundamentalists as found in Iranian Shiism indicate the extremes of irrationality. The same is true of some Jewish Fundamentalists who would base Israeli citizenship on Fundamentalist doctrines. C. The Revelational or Barthian Approach This, too, is a cognitive position but is far more sophisticated; unlike Fundamentalism, it accepts scientific findings about evolution and astronomy. As developed by Karl Barth, the position maintains that since God is so utterly different from human beings, efforts to use reason or rational categories in seeking to verify religious claims are misguided and even sinful. Reason is idolatrous. The Word of God breaks through on its own and is not in any way subject to human presuppositions. Barth and his followers do endorse biblical criticism and are not literalists. The literalists would say that the Scriptures contain the words of God; the Barthian approach says the Scriptures contain the Word of God, which stands over against the thoughts of all human beings and tells us about the meaning of life, the universe, our nature, and our destiny. Human beings must accept the Word of God as descriptive of the way things are. They cannot evaluate its confronting presence by any human instrument, because it is above human comprehension. This is a form of sophisticated fideism, which cannot be discussed or debated. D. Mystical Awareness or "Realization" Other religious believers claim that we do not receive revelations in Scriptures that provide us with a trustworthy body of knowledge; instead, we have a direct and immediate awareness or perhaps "realization" of divine religious truth. No rational inference or mediation occurs but only direct personal cognition. Religious knowledge may transcend rational categories but is not in itself antirational or irrational, being perhaps simply nonrational. Just as we intuit colors or sounds immediately, some persons are open to and can receive divine leadings and even experience God directly. Mystics can be found in several religions, and they have much in common though the implied creeds differ. Willful ignorance, moral weakness, lack of discipline, and strong desires

The Cognitive View

219

("clinging") make the effort to have this sort of religious knowledge difficult for some people. Mystical knowledge claims to be above reason. We find Christian, Jewish, Hindu, Muslim (Sufi), and Buddhist mystics, and perhaps Jain, Sikh, and Taoist mystics. This type of cognition would not occur among Confucians, Shintoists, or Zoroastrians. E. Special Access Here the claim is that special cognitive materials are available to some people who have unusual or peculiar contact with the world of the spirit. Those having special skills can grasp special truths. In a way, Zen Buddhists who believe in "sudden enlightenment" are illustrative of this approach. A "secret word" Buddhism exists, which claims that unusual access to profound knowledge is available to some people when they get hold of the key word. We find this in the teachings of the thinkers Rudolf Steiner and G. I. Gurdjieff—unusual charismatic personalities who claimed special, even esoteric knowledge about things divine. Even in William Blake we find such a tendency; and the same applies to one of his favorites, Emmanuel Swedenborg. Unfortunately, the special-access view to religious knowledge is too often linked with the occult and it shades off into aberration. F. Empirical Coherence On this view, reliable religious knowledge is available: all claims may be considered and discussed and all may be tested by broad rational considerations. All religious claims of all religions can be discussed and may be tested by a broad rational coherence. This is not deductive necessity, but is more like decisions reached in a courtroom. They are not usually absolutely demonstrated, but enough evidence, deductive conclusions, and arguments exist to make a verdict beyond a reasonable doubt possible. We do not rule out in advance specific claims (for example, to miracles and special access to the divine); we examine them as honestly and as fairly as possible. Thus, conclusions have the status of rational probability, not demonstrable certainty or even psychic certainty. They are akin to scientific truth, reliable, trustworthy, and enough to live by but still theoretically subject to questioning and doubt. (Can we prove with the finality of geometric demonstration that the sun will appear tomorrow morning? But does anyone worry about it?) Religious truths are as reliable as any we can accept and find. We seek to solve problems of life; we do not insist on perfect inviolable certainty nor do we play with conundrums developed by closet thinkers. We examine claims and test them by their inherent reasonableness and in the light of available evidence.

Twelve FURTHER PROBLEMS A host of problems arises when trying to make sense out of religious claims, and I need to examine a few of them. I will treat them in the form of questions for further reflection. (1) Religious believers all over the planet earth sometimes speak with such confidence that I wonder whether they have considered the question of how their beliefs would have application and relevance to other surfaces in our vast universe on which other intelligent habitants dwell. In the eighteenth century, Thomas Paine put the question directly when he chided Christians for their apparent arrogance. Paine wondered whether each of the inhabited planets would have its own savior. We may put the question today in a somewhat different way: Can any living religion today claim that what it holds to be true would be true and relevant for individuals living not only in our own galaxy— which could have one hundred million such systems—but also in the billions of galaxies outside of our own Milky Way, with each such galaxy having millions of star systems with their concomitant planets on which some form of intelligent life could appear? I can make two comments on this question. (i) The chances of communicating with extra-galactic individuals are not especially good though theoretically possible. Should intelligent beings exist on a planet, say, circling the star Rigel in the constellation Orion, communication would take around 540 years each way. If a radio inquiry were sent out in 1990, such beings would receive it in 2530, and their response would come in 3070, calculating that radio waves travel no faster than the speed of light. On this basis, little chance of galactic ecumenism would exist, to say nothing of extra-galactic religious fellowship. Indeed, such beings may have no religion at all. Some religious believers have claimed "soul travel" to other planets by means other than those known to scientists. Such claims at least recognize the desirability of communicating with possible beings in outer space, but the claims have no substance whatever. A small cult known as Eckankar has fostered such claims. (ii) Recognition of the near impossibility of contacting extra-terrestrial intelligences has understandably led to a thoughtful skepticism that doubts whether any religious beliefs found on our planet would be true for any surface on which life appears. But observe that science postulates that the laws of physics and chemistry as well as radio communication, if true at all, are true for the whole universe. The speed of light does not change on the bounds of the milky way when we leave the earth's surface. Nor do the multiplication or logarithmic tables change. Galileo got in serious trouble with church authorities when he urged that the laws of sidereal bodies were no different than the

222

FURTHER PROBLEMS

discoverable laws on the earth. Accordingly, intelligences on some surface a million light years away from us would be governed by the same rules of radio communication as we are. If laws of science exist, they are not earthbound, as space investigations have demonstrated again and again. No point exists in outer space where known scientific laws will not hold true, although astrophysicists are constantly open to new evidence and willing to adjust their present understandings in the formulation of broader and more inclusive laws. Consequently, what has been found to be true by a religious believer on this earth would, like a scientific law, have relevance and be true for any intelligence anywhere. But any narrow religious claim or requirement would be highly questionable. Thus, any claims based on days of the week, the moon's phases, eclipses, or any earthly calendar calculations could in no sense be universal or binding when some surfaces have many moons, different day lengths, and years both shorter and longer than ours. Nor could regulations about what to eat and not eat apply any more than the insistence that some earthly language is "God's language." But broad religious claims once thought true would not become untrue because of space or distance. The law of karma, if true, would be everywhere true, as would broad ethical demands of kindness. If we think of God as intelligent, creative, and loving, that would be true for all possible existence. But no earthly religious organization could claim dominion or authority over the whole universe, however practically useful it may be on this planet. If holiness and beauty, for example, have any true meaning, those meanings could not vary totally from the significance put on those ideas in other locations. To claim that ideas we find true on earth could not possibly be relevant or true elsewhere is an appeal to ignorance. No one would dare say that about physics, and we may not say it about metaphysics either. (2) This leads me to comment briefly on the perils of religious inquirers. If we are trying to make our way among the various competitive claims offered through long-term traditions or by persuasive recent sects, what are we to do? I presume that careful philosophical thought such as I have tried to pursue in this book will be the method, but note a few clues that 'might help us keep a perspective. (i) Recognizing the vastness of our universe and the attendant danger of applying private preferences to the full universe, any religious group that is exclusivistic, and rigidly narrow—claiming, for example, that only 144,000 souls will be saved when the world comes to an end—must seemingly be suspect. (ii) Similarly, any religion that dotes on particular predictions of future historical events, basing its calculations on a particular Scripture or tradition, ought to be immediately suspect. That is not to say that broad anticipations of the future state of humankind are to be ignored, but when the emphasis is on them, either in the sense of interpreting present history in detail as a working out of previous predictions or of foretelling the future specifically on the basis


223

of ancient Scriptures, we should take special heed. One of the traits of popular cults is to engage in this sort of thing instead of promoting human kindness and personal fulfillment. (iii) Consequently, religions that promise quick financial success, marvelous cures, or facile solutions to complex problems might well require the seeker to be hesitant. (iv) Religious groups that focus on one exciting or charismatic leader who claims to be an innovator, a new messiah, a special incarnation, or even a god, must come under watchful investigation. Think of the horrors of the Jonestown experience in 1978-1979 in which a large number of followers committed mass suicide at the behest of their leader. Think of leaders such as the person in Oregon who was a fraud or the Maharaja, popular in the 1960s. I hesitate to add contemporary leaders such as Sun Myung Moon or Sai Baba, because both of them claim to be part of a long tradition in Christianity and Hinduism, respectively. The first has founded a new religion, and the second sees himself as maintaining a long tradition. We can think of earlier charismatic leaders who broke new ground and founded movements growing out of a tradition. Joseph Smith, founder of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, was one such leader. So was Mary Baker Eddy, discoverer of Christian Science, and Bahaullah, the powerful (martyred) leader who founded Bahaism in 1862. We must be willing to look at novel religious ideas and their leaders, for the history of living religions is full of such persons and several living religions have taken the name of their founder: Zoroastrianism, Buddhism, Confucianism, and Christianity. Solo leaders who found new groups and detach themselves from tradition and organization can be self-styled and authoritative and therefore dangerous because no one is present to check on them or moderate their extravagances by noting historical responsibility. (v) We can avoid spurious by-ways by thoughtful, inquiring attitudes. The journalistic mentality has had some sway in recent years, offering such tidbits as the "God is dead" movement, which made a good story for Time magazine but did not reflect any serious activity on the part of philosophers or theologians. Throughout the world, inventing "movements" and "puffing" certain popular leaders is not beyond the capacity of the mass media. But little concern arises for what is true or valuable. Popular sentimentalism in North America of the Reader's Digest type is to be faced with critical acumen as often as it appears. (vi) A number of interesting leaders and movements have attracted some following in Europe and North America. We occasionally read advertisements about the Rosicrucians that assert it is not a religion, that it has a history extending to pre-Egyptian times, and that it will open new vistas for the mind, bringing it into important satisfactions. Some time ago, Rudolf Steiner— heavily influenced by Eastern thought—began a movement known as Anthroposophy. It has its own schools and architectural ideas, and it offers

224

FURTHER PROBLEMS

practical guidance. Another attractive leader for some has been G. I. Gurdjieff, who offers not so much a religion but a substitute for it. While such leaders are estimable persons, our total allegiance to them has little warrant. Cults build up. Krishnamurti was another who refrained from letting himself become a cult leader. Theosophy is an active movement still; it had its origins with Annie Besant, H. P. Blavatsky, and H. S. Olcott. Generally, when a cult depends on a single leader whose word is taken as authoritative and who sees himself or herself as a gift to humankind, and when no council or organization exists to provide guidance and criticism, we should be watchful. (3) Recognition of the various claims to authority, novelty, or worldstirring newness leads me to raise another problem: Should anyone join a religious group? Should anyone change their religion? These are both practical and philosophical questions. Additionally, should anyone give up a religion they have inherited or should they take one if they have never had one? This is a philosophical question insofar as it regards truth, and insofar as it touches the meaning of religion itself. If we were to say that a religion is a way of organizing our whole life for the increase and preservation of value, then to investigate a new religion would be important. But suppose someone thought that religious favorites were like baseball teams that are followed, favored, supported, and cheered for. Being a fan of the Chicago Cubs or Cincinnati Reds has nothing whatever to do with truth or the development of our whole life. To switch loyalty from one team to another may be attended by some sentiment, but it is scarcely a matter of any real importance. The incidentally religious person is not my concern here. On what grounds should someone change a religion, say from Christianity to Hinduism? For a student of philosophy to do much by way of switching faiths is probably not a good idea. The eleven dominant religions all have thoughtful, intelligent leaders who are well aware of the alternatives of other faiths. (They also have unthinking devotees with no interest in truth at all.) Before giving up one faith for another, we ought honestly to consider the finest and keenest supporters of the faith we have inherited. We do not have a right to chuck out one religion until we have viewed it in its best form. But if we find repugnant ideas in our inherited views, opposition to inquiry from leaders who are not prepared to discuss or defend their views might well lead to discouragement and cause us to find satisfaction elsewhere. The philosopher will gravitate toward the religion that makes more rational sense, if any does, being aware that, just as with political party affiliation or with candidates voted for, practical matters and ideas that nettle him or her may arise. We ought truly to select the best that we know in all honesty. John Stuart Mill once said: "If God condemns honest thought to hell I will gladly go." His point is obvious. Any religious belief that fears sincere inquiry and will not discuss its basis or even try to validate its claims is a belief that cannot expect loyalty or commitment.

Criticisms of Religion: External and Internal

225

The issues dividing religion are not here to be discussed again, but some clear cases of difference illustrate my major point. A Christian missionary once reported to me that he knew of another missionary who switched from Christianity to Hinduism because the idea of karma seemed more just and more true than the idea of forgiveness. What other grounds could exist for changing a religion? People who have changed religions historically have often done so because of pressure or decree from a monarch, forcible conversion, or having an indigenous religion supplanted by another. We need not recount the Spanish forcing the Aztecs or monarchs requiring Catholics to become Protestants. The story is unpleasant. In our world, a person may adopt a new faith because of a switch in geography or because a marital partner wishes it. On this basis, Christians have often become Jews and vice versa. But what of changing our religion for specific reasons? To approach this philosophically, we must ask what the issues are that divide an inherited faith from the one being contemplated. To be sure, if we ask for "perfection" when undergoing such a switch we ask the impossible. If we were to await perfection in all details in a political party or candidate, we would never be able to vote. Nor would we even be able to choose a life-mate if we were to await perfection. But a genuine philosophical or even scientific conflict might occur that would indicate a change is warranted. I mention but one such pivotal question: If someone thought that religions that have doctrines of salvation are basically unjust, they might then thoughtfully decide to change to a religion that required individual efforts and responsibility. Thus, one of the karmic religions might be more suitable. There a person reaps the reward of a good or a sinful life, without escape through grace or divine assistance. On the other hand, if someone felt that persistent human fragility and weakness was so devastating that they could not hope ever to accomplish all that would be needed for a truly worthy life, they might find a doctrine of forgiveness and salvation more acceptable. Several religions provide such spiritual relief. 1. Criticisms of Religion: External and Internal Religions in general and in particular have been subject to criticism as long as religion has existed. Note that two kinds of criticism arise—that offered by persons outside of the religious fold ("external criticism") and that offered by those affiliated with some religion ("internal criticism"). As might be expected, the most cutting charges against a religion are those that come from within. Some external critics aver that religion is a product of immaturity, personality weakness, or psychological insecurity. Psychoanalysts suggest that religion is a mark of undeveloped persons, and as we mature emotionally and psychologically, the need for religion disappears. Some see churches and other religious institutions as useful stopgaps to assuage mental problems and illness

226

FURTHER PROBLEMS

since not enough psychotherapists or analysts are available to cover all the cases (a somewhat patronizing view). Other external critics see faiths as products of society, perhaps as projections of societal needs, possibly as a stage in growth toward a more scientific outlook. Sociological critiques often treat religions merely as phenomena, however interesting; but they find nothing that can be regarded as true in itself about any religion. Voltaire exercised his wit in inspiring derision of the dogmas and ceremonies of all religion. He wanted "true religion," not dictation. Still other external critics resort to cutting and sneering attacks. These are the journalist types illustrated in the cleverness of H. L. Mencken, and earlier in Mark Twain. Such criticisms are usually unbalanced and hardly fair-minded, but they occasionally lift up in sharp outline some of the weakest aspects of religious belief and practice. Internal critics are generally far more insightful. We see at once in the history of almost any religion a tension arising between those who have vested interests and traditions to preserve and those who believe that the traditions must be criticized and the interests exposed. Almost paradigmatic for religious history are the prophets who judge the priests. The priests tend to represent tradition, ceremony, and usually nationalism. They try to conserve what they feel important. The prophets scorn formalism, ceremony, nationalistic pride, and tradition for tradition's sake, and they try to lead the people to a higher, more ethical level. This tension is found most clearly in Judaism, but it occurs in every religion. Indeed, Buddha was a prophet in the sense that he opposed what he took to be false practices and social conservatism in Hinduism. His opposition to caste, his willingness to give respect to women, and his criticism of traditional Scriptures led to the founding of a new religion. The same is true of Mahavira, the historic founder of Jainism, who opposed not only caste but also animal sacrifice. Zoroaster, Confucius, and Lao Tzu also offered criticisms of their own religious traditions, urging in each case the ethical over the ceremonial. The same is true about Mohammed, who was personally attacked for challenging the superstitious practices of pre-Islamic religious traditions. George Foote Moore pointed out that a great flood of prophetic activity took place between the ninth and fourth centuries B.C. and tensions and changes resulting from criticism have been occurring since. Jesus was clearly a prophetic personality working within a tradition, trying to purify it and raise the ethical level. And in the Hindu tradition, at least two great prophetic leaders appeared in medieval times, Shankara, a great reformer in the Saivite tradition and Ramanuja in the Vaishnavite tradition. Think also of personalities such as John Calvin, Martin Luther, Girolamo Savonarola, John Knox, John Wesley, Ramakrishna, and, within the present century, Swami Vivekananda, Walter Rauschenbusch, and Reinhold Niebuhr.

Additional Questions for Consideration

227

2. Additional Questions for Consideration A. Miracles Some religions historically and even now seem to indicate that their respective faiths are true because their founders and followers are able to perform miracles of various sorts. The miracles are then taken as direct evidence that the religion is validated. This is a bothersome problem for many and needs to be looked at from several perspectives: (1) claims to miracles in the past; (2) claims to miracles in the present, especially healing miracles; and (3) what we mean by the term and what sort of a view of the universe is implied if a genuine alteration of the natural order occurs. Saint Paul did not use miracles as "proof of Christianity, but Christians and others do. Such external claims to validation are usually spurious, but the safest thing to do is to look at each one as a datum, check the written records to see whether factual material can be uncovered, and question the reports of vocal witnesses who are often emotionally distressed. B. Fundamentalism This is an attitude toward religion found primarily in religions where heresies and rigid doctrines are adhered to. The Fundamentalist, whether Jewish, Christian, or Muslim, indicates doctrines that must be accepted without question in order for a person to be regarded as a proper member of the group. It tends to be the result of an earnest and sincere piety, but it usually becomes fierce and divisive. We do not find it in Buddhism or Hinduism. It would be unintelligible to a Confucian, although some Taoists of the popular variety practiced it in the early years of the twentieth century during the Boxer Rebellion. Many kinds of Fundamentalism exist, and its devotees are rigorous and committed and claim to be the truly orthodox, the defenders of the true faith. That they are not willing to argue or discuss the grounds for their adherence is one of the clearest instances of Fundamentalism. That they are vindictive, arrogant, and intolerant makes Fundamentalism a social and political problem, especially in the Middle East. The nonacceptance of persons who do not share the "right" or orthodox belief is one of its traits. It needs perhaps some psychological interpretation, since it is linked with the desire for specific, absolute truths that by no stretch of reason or imagination could ever be falsified. Interestingly, Fundamentalists in differing religions seem to be alike psychologically and sociologically. Also, we find noticeable differences within Fundamentalism—internecine wars and allegations of heresy—that tend to be so severe that to have no religion at all and to try to be humanly kind instead of insisting on "the true creed" or "the one true church" seems better. To put a

228

FURTHER PROBLEMS

priority on creeds to the neglect of human kindness seems intuitively wrong. When something makes human beings less kindly towards each other, more arrogant and self-assured, we ought to wonder whether that religion is worth having. Sometimes plain secular daylight needs to shine on the claims of the fierce Fundamentalist. No one less than Albert Schweitzer said that the great question in religion is: How far does it produce permanent and profound incentives to the inward perfection of personality and to ethical sensitivity? One attitude claims that religions are by nature shrouded in mystery, that we must not try to get acquainted with such mysteries but shpuld instead accept them, for mysteries about the highest we know escape human analysis and clarification. Indeed, if we try to analyze or even understand the mystery, the mystery itself is dissolved and the value of the mysterious holiness is somehow dissolved and can no longer be attained. C. Infallibility and Inerrancy Only in the Near Eastern religions of Christianity and Islam do these doctrines appear. The psychological need seems to exist for some final, absolute authority that can answer all questions—not only about religious meaning, but about how to interpret present events and even how to run political situations. Muslims insist that the Koran is the holy word of Allah dictated in the Arabic language and hence not translatable. Mohammad Pickthall dubs his work at putting the text into English as "explanatory translation." But those who would become Muslims throughout the world must learn the language of the original, no matter how foreign it is to them, being regarded as holy in every respect, even to the accent marks. A number of Christians insist that their Scripture is totally inerrant, the final Word of God, free from mistakes, and thus the very words of God. Roman Catholics for over a hundred years have had the doctrine of papal infallibility when the Pope speaks on matters of faith and morals. Such absolutistic doctrines are initially repugnant to thoughtful inquirers, but is any logic found in them? If Arabic is the language of Allah, are intelligent beings on other extra-galactic planetary surfaces doomed if they are unacquainted with Arabic? Would Allah make his will and ideas known to some non-Arabic-speaking person on a planet 4,321 light years from Mecca? If we were to ask the Christian Fundamentalist about how inerrant Scripture could be validated, he or she would be unwilling to offer any defense. Scripture tells us that it is inspired and if it consists of the very words of God (presumably in translation into the English of the seventeenth century), it too must be unalterably true. And if it is untrue in any point, then it is perhaps untrue in every point. This is the all-or-none principle at work. But what is the logic in insisting that nothing can be pondered but all must be accepted no matter how it might seem to conflict with itself, with ordinary observation, or with basic scientific principles? Can we, for instance, conclude that we must never trust our eyesight just because we have been deceived by optical illusions a few

Additional Questions for Consideration

229

times? The senses are not untrustworthy because they occasionally make mistakes. Nor can any Scripture be regarded as wholly invalid if someone honestly challenges this or that part of it. But the Fundamentalist cannot be argued down. Seemingly, he or she will neither listen nor learn. They have the truth; they know the truth; and they cannot entertain even the remote possibility of being wrong. Doctrines of infallibility and absolutism of this sort cannot be dealt with philosophically. They are more properly subject matter for the practicing physician or psychotherapist, because, to be consistent, persons holding such views should not communicate with those who do not. And, indeed, people known as "double separationists" will not even talk to those of their own basic viewpoint when those persons have conversed with someone outside the wall of faith. This is the embodiment of arrogance no matter how sincere the believer is. It is a case of having the truth and being willing to proclaim it, but never for a moment raising or entertaining the slightest whisper of a doubt. Fortunately, other wider attitudes toward religious truth exist that are more human, kinder, resilient, and thoughtful. The Fundamentalist fervor is akin to the fervor of fascism or patriotism, which says, "My country right or wrong." It is a totalitarian view and consequently denigrates human dignity.

NOTES Chapter Two 1. A. C. Knudson, Doctrine of God (New York: Abingdon Press, 1930), p. 114. 2. Beatrice Bruteau, Evolution toward Divinity: Teilhard de Chardin and the Hindu Traditions (Wheaton, 111.: Theosophical Publication House, 1974). 3. Blaise Pascal, Thoughts (New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910), Section 4, Fr. 277. 4. Ibid., Section 3, "On the Necessity of the Wager." 5. Ibid., Fr. 24. 6. Ibid., Fr. 233. 7. See Frederick R. Tennant, Theological Essays (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1978), p. 60. 8. Paul Tillich, Biblical Religion and the Search for Ultimate Reality (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955), p. 64. 9. Nicholas Wolterstorff, Reason within the Bounds of Religion (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1976), p. 72. 10. Ibid. Chapter Three 1. Cecil Cadoux, The Case for Evangelical Modernism (London: Hoddera & Stoughton, 1938), p. 115. 2. T. H. Robinson, An Introduction to the Old Testament (New York: Abingdon Press, 1969), p. 118. 3. John B. Noss, Man's Religions (New York: Macmillan, 1984), p. 320. Chapter Four 1. Charles Hartshorne, Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers: An Evaluation of Western Philosophy (Albany, N. Y: State University of New York Press, 1983), p. 332. 2. Jonathan Barnes, Early Greek Philosophy (New York: Penguin Books, 1987), pp. 94-95. 3. H. P. Owen, The Christian Knowledge of God (London: Macmillan, 1969). 4. Henry N. Wieman, God as Person (New York: Macmillan, 1930), p. 74. 5. Ibid., p. 78. 6. Phillips Brooks, Selected Sermons, ed. William Scarlet (New York: Dutton, 1950), p. 31. 7. Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents (New York: Norton, 1962), p. 21.

232

Notes to Pages

78-103

Chapter Five 1. See Helmuth von Glasenapp, Buddhism: A Non-Theistic Religion (New York: Harper & Row, 1972), p. 42. 2. Martin Luther King, Jr., Strength to Love (New York: Harper & Row, 1963), p. 172. 3. Satischandra Chatterjee and Dhirendramohan Datta, An Introduction to Indian Philosophy (Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1950), p. 245. 4. Yehudi Menuhin, Unfinished Journey (London: Futura, 1978), p. 133. 5. Peter Bertocci, Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1960), p. 344. 6. Quoted in Renee Weber, Dialogues with Scientists and Sages (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986), p. 211. 7. Robert Patterson, A Philosophy of Religion (Durham, N. C : Duke University Press, 1970), p. 210. 8. Borden P. Bowne, Metaphysics, rev. ed. (Boston: Boston University Press, 1943), p. 266. 9. See Charles Hartshorne, Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method (London: SCM Press, 1970), p. 157. 10. Glasenapp, Buddhism, p. 38. 11. Weber, Dialogues with Scientists and Sages, p. 214. 12. Quoted in E. S. Brightman, A Philosophy of Religion (New York: PrenticeHall, 1940), p. 256. 13. Glasenapp, Buddhism, p. 12. 14. H. P. Owen, The Christian Knowledge of God (London: Macmillan, 1969), p. 50. 15. Ibid. 16. John Cook Wilson, Statement and Inference, vol. 2 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1926), p. 162. 17. Owen, Christian Knowledge of God, p. 51. 18. Wilson, Statement and Inference, vol. 2, p. 242. 19. Frederick R. Tennant, Philosophical Theology, vol. 1 (Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1928-1930), p. 242. 20. Owen, Christian Knowledge of God, pp. 54ff. 21. Bertocci, Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion, pp. 287-302. 22. Peter Bertocci, The Goodness of God (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1958), p. 135. 23. Richard Taylor, Metaphysics (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1974), p. 117. 24. Paul Claudel, I Believe in God (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1963), p. 70. 25. See Warren E. Steinkraus, ed., New Studies in Berkeley's Philosophy (New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1966), pp. 106ff. 26. Piyadassi Thera, Dependent Origination (Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 1959). 27. K. N. Jayatilleke, The Buddhist Attitude to Other Religions (Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 1975), p. 28. 28. Ibid.,p. 29.

Notes to Pages

104-136

233

29. Jacob Taubes, "The Copernican Turn in Theology," in Religious Experience and Truth, ed. Sidney Hook (New York: New York University Press, 1961), p. 73. 30. Sigmund Freud, Moses and Monotheism, trans. Kathleen Jones (New York: Vintage, 1939), p. 167. 31. John Hick, Philosophy of Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963), p. 31. Chapter Six 1. H. Lansford, "Climate Outlook," Smithsonian Magazine (November 1975), p. 15. 2. David Hume, Dialogues concerning Natural Religion, in Hume's Philosophical Works, ed. T. H. Green and T. H. Grose, vol. 2 (London, 1874-1875), p. 436. 3. See National Geographic (1989). 4. See "At Stake: 5,000,000,000 Years of Life," National Wildlife, 10:3 (1972). 5. See Norman Kretzmann, "God among the Causes of Moral Evil: The Hardening of Hearts," Philosophical Topics, 16:2 (1988). 6. See The New York Times (22 August 1954). 7. Quoted in E. T. Layton, Roger Pineau, and John Costello, "And I Was There ": Pearl Harbor and Midway Breaking the Secrets (New York: William Morrow & Co., 1985), p. 199. 8. Shirley Holdren and Susan Holdren, Why God Gave Me Pain (Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1988). 9. See H. King, Christianity and the World's Religions (Garden City, N. Y.: Doubleday, 1986), p. 2217. 10. Charles Hartshorne, A Natural Theology for Our Time (LaSalle, III.: Open Court, 1967), p. 120. 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures (Boston: J. Armstrong, 1906). 14. Ibid., p. 147. 15. Ibid, p. 425. 16. Ibid, p. 46$. 17. Borden P. Bowne, Theism (New York: American Book Company, 1902), p. 273. 18. Eric Ormsby, Theodicy in Islamic Thought: The Dispute over Al-Ghazali's "Best of All Possible Worlds" (Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1984), p. 257. 19. E. S. Brightman, A Philosophy of Religion (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1940), p. 321. 20. Ibid., p. 316. 21. Ibid. 22. Ibid., p. 335. 23. Austin Farrer, Love Almighty and Ills Unlimited (Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1961), p. 103.

234

Notes to Pages

137-160

Chapter Seven 1. Rufus Jones, The Flowering of Mysticism: The Friends of God in the Fourteenth Century (New York: Macmillan, 1939), p. 6. 2. Ibid., p. 7. 3. John B. Noss, Man's Religions (New York: Macmillan, 1984), p. 206. 4. See Richard Haliburton, New Worlds to Conquer (Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1929), p. 15. 5. William Hocking, The Meaning of God in Human Experience (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1912), p. 14. 6. George Galloway, Philosophy of Religion (Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1914), p. 127. 7. Dean Inge, Truth and Falsehood in Religion (London: John Murray, 1906), p. 11. 8. "Prayer for Passage Out of Bardo," in W. Y. Evans-Wentz, The Tibetan Book of the Dead (Hew York: Galaxy Books, 1960), pp. 18, 155. 9. See G. P. Malalaasekera, "Buddhism and Worship," in Bohdi Leaves, a pamphlet published by the Buddhist Publication Society, Sri Lanka, No. 8. 10. Henry N. Wieman, God as Person (New York: Macmillan, 1930), p. 77. See also his Man's Ultimate Commitment (Carbondale, 111.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1958), p. 177. 11. Jeremy Taylor, Holy Living and Holy Dying (Wheaton, 111.: Tynedale House, 1986), p. 197. 12. Ibid., p. 198. 13. Peter Geach, God and the Soul (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965), pp. 90-93. 14. Quoted from the Talmud in Milton Steinberg, Basic Judaism (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1947), pp. 119ff. 15. Douglas Steere, On Beginning from Within (New York: Harper Brothers, 1943). 16. H. H. Price, Essays in the Philosophy of Religion (Oxford: Clarendon, 1972), pp. 38, 39. 17. Thomas Merton, Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948), p. 325. 18. Price, Essays in the Philosophy of Religion, p. 55. 19. See Franklin Loehr, The Power of Prayer on Plants (Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1959). 20. Walter Rauschenbusch, The Righteousness of the Kingdom (New York: Abingdon Press, 1968), p. 108. Chapter Eight 1. Thomas Merton, Seven Storey Mountain (New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948), p. 330. 2. Leo Tolstoy, Essays and Letters (London: Thomas Crowell & Co., 1903), p. 329.

Notes to Pages

161-229

235

3. See Niels C. Nielsen, et al, eds., Religions of the World (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1983), p. 354. 4. Edward Conze, Buddhism: Its Essence and Development (New York: Harper, 1959), p. 204. Chapter Nine 1. Paul Weisz, The Science of Biology (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963), p. 15. 2. Trilochan Singh, Guru Nanak's Religion (Delhi: Rajkamal Pvt, Ltd., 1968). 3. J. R. Lucas, The Future: An Essay on God, Temporality, and Truth (New York: Blackwell, 1989). Chapter Ten 1. See also Mark 12:25 and Luke 20:35. Chapter Eleven 1. A. J. Ayer, Language, Truth, and Logic (New York: Dover, 1936), p. 115. 2. Sokyo Ono, Shinto: The Kami Way (Rutland, Vermont: Charles E. Tuttle, 1962). 3. Ibid., p. 56. 4. H. A. Wolfson, Philo, vol. 1 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1947), p. 116. 5. Ibid., p. 80. 6. Ibid,-p. 139. 7. Quoted in Sidney Hook, Religious Experience and Truth (New York: New York University Press, 1961), p. 303. 8. Ibid., p. 9. 9. Quoted in John Hick, Philosophy of Religion (Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963), pp. 90-93. 10. Ibid, p. 91. 11. Anthony Flew and Alasdair Maclntyre, eds., New Essays in Philosophical Theology (New York: Macmillan, 1955), pp. 91-96. 12. R. M. Hare, "Theology and Falsification," in Flew and Maclntyre, New Essays, p. 100. 13. David Hume, A Treatise of Human Nature (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974), Section 14. 14. Stuart C. Brown, Do Religious Claims Make Sense? (London: SCM Press, 1969). 15. W. G. De Burgh, Towards a Religious Philosophy (London: McDonald & Evans, 1937), p. 25.

BIBLIOGRAPHY Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth, and Logic. New York: Dover, 1936. Barnes, Jonathan. Early Greek Philosophy. New York: Penguin Books, 1987. Bertocci, Peter. The Goodness of God. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1958. . Introduction to the Philosophy of Religion. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: PrenticeHall, 1960. Bowne, Borden P. Metaphysics. Revised edition. Boston: Boston University Press, 1943. . Theism. New York: American Book Company, 1902. Brightman, E. S. A Philosophy of Religion. New York: Prentice-Hall, 1940. Brooks, Phillips. Selected Sermons. Edited by William Scarlet. New York: Dutton, 1950. Brown, Stuart C. Do Religious Claims Make Sense? London: SCM Press, 1969. Bruteau, Beatrice. Evolution toward Divinity: Teilhard de Chardin and the Hindu Traditions. Wheaton, 111.: Theosophical Publication House, 1974. Cadoux, Cecil. The Case for Evangelical Modernism. London: Hoddera & Stoughton, 1938. Chatterjee, Satischandra and Dhirendramohan Datta. An Introduction to Indian Philosophy. Calcutta: University of Calcutta, 1950. Claudel, Paul. I Believe in God. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1963. Conze, Edward. Buddhism: Its Essence and Development. New York: Harper, 1959. De Burgh, W. G. Towards a Religious Philosophy. London: McDonald & Evans, 1937. Eddy, Mary Baker. Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures. Boston: J. Armstrong, 1906. Evans-Wentz, W. Y The Tibetan Book of the Dead. New York: Galaxy Books, 1960. Farrer, Austin. Love Almighty and Ills Unlimited. Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1961. Flew, Anthony and Alasdair Maclntyre, eds. New Essays in Philosophical Theology. New York: Macmillan, 1955. Freud, Sigmund. Civilization and Its Discontents. New York: Norton, 1962.

238

BIBLIOGRAPHY . Moses and Monotheism. Translated by Kathleen Jones. New York: Vintage,

1939. Galloway, George. Philosophy of Religion. Edinburgh: T. & T. Clark, 1914. Geach, Peter. God and the Soul. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965. Glasenapp, Helmuth von. Buddhism: A Non-Theistic Religion. New York: Harper & Row, 1972. Haliburton, Richard. New Worlds to Conquer. Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1929. Hare, R. M. "Theology and Falsification." In New Essays in Philosophical Theology, edited by Anthony Flew and Alasdair Maclntyre. New York: Macmillan, 1955. Hartshorne, Charles. Creative Synthesis and Philosophic Method. London: SCM Press, 1970. . Insights and Oversights of Great Thinkers: An Evaluation of Western Philosophy. Albany, N. Y: State University of New York Press, 1983. . A Natural Theology for Our Time. LaSalle, III: Open Court, 1967. Hick, John. Philosophy of Religion. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1963. Hocking, William. The Meaning of God in Human Experience. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1912. Holdren, Shirley and Susan Holdren. Why God Gave Me Pain. Chicago: Loyola University Press, 1988. Hook, Sidney. Religious Experience and Truth. New York: New York University Press, 1961. Hume, David. Dialogues concerning Natural Religion. In Hume 's Philosophical Works, edited by T. H. Green and T. H. Grose. London, 1874-1875. . A Treatise of Human Nature. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1974. Inge, Dean. Truth and Falsehood in Religion. London: John Murray, 1906. Jayatilleke, K. N. The Buddhist Attitude to Other Religions. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 1975. Jones, Rufus. The Flowering of Mysticism: The Friends of God in the Fourteenth Centuty. New York: Macmillan, 1939. King, H. Christianity and the World's Religions. Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1986. King, Martin Luther, Jr. Strength to Love. New York: Harper & Row, 1963.


239

Knudson, A. C. Doctrine of God. New York: Abingdon Press, 1930. Kretzmann, Norman. "God among the Causes of Moral Evil: The Hardening of Hearts," Philosophical Topics, 16:2 (1988). Lansford, H. "Climate Outlook," Smithsonian Magazine (November 1975). Layton, E. T., Roger Pineau, and John Costello. "AndI Was There": Pearl Harbor and Midway Breaking the Secrets. New York: William Morrow & Co., 1985. Loehr, Franklin. The Power of Prayer on Plants. Garden City, N. Y: Doubleday, 1959. Lucas, J. R. The Future: An Essay on God, Temporality, and Truth. New York: Blackwell, 1989. Malalaasekera, G. P. "Buddhism and Worship." In Bohdi Leaves. Pamphlet published by the Buddhist Publication Society, Sri Lanka. Menuhin, Yehudi. Unfinished Journey. London: Futura, 1978. Merton, Thomas. Seven Storey Mountain. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1948. Nielsen, Niels C. et al., eds. Religions of the World. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1983. Noss, John B. Man's Religions. New York: Macmillan, 1984. Ono, Sokyo. Shinto: The Kami Way. Rutland, Vermont: Charles E. Turtle, 1962. Ormsby, Eric. Theodicy in Islamic Thought: The Dispute over Al-Ghazali's "Best of All Possible Worlds. " Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1984. Owen, H. P. The Christian Knowledge of God. London: Macmillan, 1969. Pascal, Blaise. Thoughts. New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910. Patterson, Robert. A Philosophy of Religion. Durham, N. C: Duke University Press, 1970. Price, H. H. Essays in the Philosophy of Religion. Oxford: Clarendon, 1972. Rauschenbusch, Walter. The Righteousness of the Kingdom. New York: Abingdon Press, 1968. Robinson, T H. An Introduction to the Old Testament. New York: Abingdon Press, 1969. Singh, Trilochan. Guru Nanak's Religion. Delhi: Rajkamal Pvt., Ltd., 1968. Steere, Douglas. On Beginning from Within. New York: Harper Brothers, 1943.

240

BIBLIOGRAPHY

Steinberg, Milton. Basic Judaism. New York: Harcourt, Brace, 1947. Steinkraus, Warren E., ed. New Studies in Berkeley's Philosophy. New York: Holt, Rinehart & Winston, 1966. Taubes, Jacob. "The Copernican Turn in Theology." In Religious Experience and Truth, edited by Sidney Hook. New York: New York University Press, 1961. Taylor, Jeremy. Holy Living and Holy Dying. Wheaton, 111.: Tynedale House, 1986. Taylor, Richard. Metaphysics. Englewood Cliffs, N. J.: Prentice-Hall, 1974. Tennant, Frederick R. Philosophical Theology. Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1928-1930. . Theological Essays. Cambridge, Eng.: Cambridge University Press, 1978. Thera, Piyadassi. Dependent Origination. Kandy, Sri Lanka: Buddhist Publication Society, 1959. Tillich, Paul. Biblical Religion and the Search for Ultimate Reality. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1955. Tolstoy, Leo. Essays and Letters. London: Thomas Crowell & Co., 1903. Weber, Renee. Dialogues with Scientists and Sages. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986. Weisz, Paul. The Science of Biology. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1963. Wieman, Henry N. God as Person. New York: Macmillan. 1930. . Man's Ultimate Commitment. Carbondale, 111.: Southern Illinois University Press, 1958. Wilson, John Cook. Statement and Inference. Oxford: Clarendon, 1926. Wolfson, H. A. Philo. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1947. Wolterstorff, Nicholas. Reason within the Bounds of Religion. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1976.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR Warren E. Steinkraus (1922-1990) was a philosopher, a teacher, and a human being par excellence. First, he devoted his intellectual energies throughout his life to the- analysis of a wide spectrum of philosophical questions in epistemology, metaphysics, and theory of value. Always open to a serious discussion of any significant human problem, he frequently debated philosophical views in writing, public fora, and personal correspondence. His pre-eminent passion was a passion for truth, the sort of truth that enhances our understanding, insight, or knowledge about any aspect or dimension of human experience. He shied away from shallow and sophistic types of philosophy and philosophers, focusing always on the essence, relevance, and intrinsic importance of whatever matters to the philosophic mind. He never wrote in haste, and he always subjected his work to the severest criticism by himself and others before submitting it for publication. His knowledge of Eastern and Western philosophy was encyclopedic, and he always thought and wrote in terms of the history of ideas. For him, an idea that does not surpass earlier analyses of it in depth, richness, and validity is not worth reading or writing about. He firmly believed that a philosophical piece should articulate insight, understanding, and human feeling; it should challenge our minds to think critically about established beliefs, values, principles, and practical life; and it should suggest new possibilities for seeing, analyzing, and interpreting human experience of the world. For Steinkraus, philosophical reflection is not the specialty of the ivory-tower thinker but of the citizen who cares about the cultural progress of society. Wisdom should guide personal and social action, being the elan of human development. Steinkraus was a philosopher in action throughout his adult life. He was active in a number of organizations that sought to promote justice, peace, freedom, art, religious toleration, equality, and* the dignity of the human person. In addition to a long list of scholarly publications, his invaluable editorial service to the journal Idealistic Studies, and the many chapters he contributed to books, Steinkraus published the following important titles: Philosophy of Art, New Studies in Berkeley's Philosophy, New Studies in Hegel's Philosophy, A Discussion of the Law of Karma, and Art and Logic in Hegel's Philosophy. Second, Steinkraus was a superior teacher. Here I use "teacher" in the Socratic sense of the word. He was not merely a lecturer; he was also a Socratic mid-wife. Throughout his teaching career, he aspired to communicate knowledge and understanding. Communicating understanding, or perhaps creating an occasion for its possibility, is, as any serious teacher knows, a most difficult task. Steinkraus's lectures were explosive intellectual adventures. He utilized body-language, comical or sardonic gestures, fitting examples or incidents, analogies or disparate modes of reasoning, and confessions or questioning cries in his lectures for one singular purpose: to make the student think. A person could neither sleep in his class nor ignore what he was trying to

242

ABOUT THE A UTHOR

say, for clearly he was genuine and had something important to say. He had the unique ability to bring ancient, medieval, and modern philosophy to life by making them relevant to the concerns of the students. Indeed, he made his students see the value of philosophy. When he taught aesthetics, the students learned much about art, but they also learned how to appreciate it; when he taught metaphysics, they learned much about the ontological systems of the major philosophers, but they also learned to appreciate the natural and human order and the intricacy of metaphysical speculation; when he taught social and political philosophy, they learned much about the basic social and political institutions and the dynamics of government, but they also learned the importance of freedom, justice, peace, and the dignity of people; and when he taught the history of philosophy, they learned a wealth of philosophical ideas in their historical development, but they also learned the value of culture. Steinkraus was a philosophical presence. I do not make these brief remarks so as to eulogize him—no, I write from personal experience, for I have lived this presence by reading his work and by conversing and corresponding with him on important philosophical questions. One of the difficult questions we debated on the phone just before he died was the question of the immortality of the soul. He was genuinely interested in whether we can intelligibly speak of A. N. Whitehead's view of "objective immortality" and whether objective or personal immortality is relevant to religious faith. I was his student for two years and I took seven philosophy courses with him. He became the dominant figure in my life until his departure from this earth. He made philosophy believable to me and to many others like me, convincing us that philosophy is not an intellectual game but a way of life and that it cannot be a way of life unless we think from our heart, soul, and mind. Many of his students are now active, committed philosophers. We never regretted making this commitment. Third, Steinkraus was a human being par excellence. It is not easy to make such a judgment, and yet I make it! I make it, again from personal experience, because Steinkraus was the kind of person who was actively responsive to all the qualities and capacities that make us human. He was, as far as I know, a fulfilled human being. His philosophical work is a testimony to his creative mind. He thought from himself. Not many of those who write philosophy these days think from themselves; much of what goes on under the name of philosophy is mainly a series of quotations from distinguished philosophers rewritten in a fancy or different language, or in the language of the day! This does not apply to Steinkraus. Again, he loved people and he loved to socialize. He was personally acquainted with the ways and norms of the major cultures of the world. He valued these cultures and enjoyed interacting with them thoughtfully and with a sense of appreciation. No one could spend even a short time with him without seeing his wit and humor. Moreover, he was an art lover, devoting much of his free time to the appreciation and study of art. Any reader of his Philosophy of Art or essays in aesthetics can readily see that he did not merely analyze aesthetic ideas, but he also wrote from a genuine


243

feeling for beauty and the aesthetic as such. Finally, a deep religious sense underlay almost everything Steinkraus did or wrote. The present work reveals this feature explicitly. He was not a religious hypocrite,~fanatic, or dogmatist. He strongly believed that the universe is not an accident and that it exists for a significant purpose. He also believed that the values that define our humanity—moral, metaphysical, aesthetic, and sociopolitical values—are grounded in an ultimate being. They express a rational, universal vision. Loyalty to these values in word and deed is the essence of his religious sense. I experienced this sense in him when I first met him in 1961 as a student at Union College, Barbourville, Kentucky. He tenaciously held on to this sense until his death in 1990. He left many friends here and abroad behind him, and in leaving them he left a legacy, an example of what it means to philosophize, to teach, and to be a human being. My friendship with him lasted for twentynine years. I have known him to be a gentle, loyal, honorable, courageous, and just human being.

Michael H. Mitias

ABOUT THE EDITOR Michael H. Mitias is a professor of philosophy at Mills*aps College, Jackson, Mississippi. He has devoted his professional life to teaching and exploring the nature of human values in aesthetics and ethics. In charting this way of life, he has followed in the footsteps of his teacher and mentor, Warren E. Steinkraus. In addition to numerous articles that appeared in scholarly journals and books, he has authored The Moral Foundation of the State and What Makes an Experience Aesthetic? He has also edited a number of books in aesthetics and ethics.

INDEX Aberglaube, 7, 9 Abraham, 17, 142, 154 Acts, Book of, 8 actus purus, 70 acupuncture, 18 Adam, 40, 46, 121, 180, 182, 183, 205 advaitic Vedanta, 31, 65, 125-126, 176 Aeneid, The (Virgil), 52 aesthetics, 6, 21, 202 Africa, 2 agnosticism, 16, 53, 59 ahimsa, 22, 163. 182 Ahmadayya, 56 Ahriman. 70, 198 Ahura Mazda, 55, 70, 119, 162, 198 alchemy, 185 Alciphron (Berkeley), 53, 79 Alexander, Samuel, 59, 70, 74 Al-Ghazali, 129,211 Allah. 14, 18, 55, 63, 64, 70, 73, 80, 89, 137, 148, 164, 172, 181, 203,217,228 all-or-none principle, 38, 39 Amaterasu, 40, 55, 157 Amish, 5 Amitabha, 148 Ammonius Saccas, 65 Angel of Death, 40, 50 angels, 105 Anglican Church, 41 Angra Mainyu, 70, 119, 198 animal sacrifice, 8, 16, 142-143, 161, 226 Anselm, Saint, 29, 101 anthropomorphism. 56-58 Anthroposophy, 223 Antinomians, 89, 163 anti-rationalism. 28 Apartheid, 107, 165 Apocrypha, 39 Arabic language, 14, 217, 228 Arafat, Mount, 142 archaeology, 35 arguments, against God's existence, 102-110 for God's existence, 77-102

Aristotle, 29, 59, 70. 73, 74, 84, 87, 102, 157, 176, 191 Armageddon, !20, 198 Arnold, Matthew, 60 Arya Samaj, 3 Ascension, the, 33, 35, 37 Ashokan column, 35 Asimov, Isaac, 114 astrology, 8, 41, 42, 48, 156 astronomy, 36, 51, 74, 87, 103, 104, 110 atheism, 4, 19, 53, 54, 71, 78, 102103, 109, 131-132, 193 dtman, 65, 176, 186, 191, 196 atomism, 110 Augustine, Saint, 29, 46, 57, 82, 91, 122-123, 163, 173, 182, 198, 199 Austin, John, 216 auto-suggestion, 152 avatars, 21, 105, 137 axiology, 182-183,202 Ayer, A. J., 202 Ayur Vedic medicine, 18 Aztecs, 8 Baal, 18,56,74 Babel, tqwer of, 36 Babylonia, 2 Bach, Johann Sebastian, 82, 106 Bacon, Francis, 30, 171 Badshah Khan, 165 Bahadur, Guru Teg, 41 Bahai, 1, 19,34, 146,223 Bahaullah, 34, 223 Bar Mitzvah, 80, 141, 155,203 Barnabas, 13 Barth, Karl, 63, 91, 137,218 Bat Mitzvah, 80, 141, 155.203 Battle for the Mind (Sargant), 43 beauty, 65 argument from, 83-87 behaviorism, 106, 109, 171, 172, 175 Berkeley, George, 4, 7, 8, 53, 59, 69, 74,79,99, 100, 101, 191 Bernard of Clairvaux, 146 Bertocci, Peter, 85, 93, 97

248 Besant, Annie, 224 Bethlehem, 36 Bhagavad Gita, 82, 190, 205 Bible, the, 38, 54, 107, 167, 199, 201, 205,217 Big Bang, 68, 87, 88 biology, 74, 84-85 birth defects, 99, 112-113, 115, 117 Black Stone, the, 8 Blake, William, 219 Blavatsky, H. P., 224 Bodhisattvas, 151 Boethius, 111 Borobudor, 14 Botha, P. W., 67 Bowne, Borden P., 69, 78, 86, 97, 119, 129 Boxer Rebellion, 146,227 Bradley, F. H., 67 brahmacharya, 158 Brahman, 55, 176, 186, 191 Brahman-Atman, 67, 70, 87, 89, 99, 163 Brahmo Samaj, 2 Braithwaite, R., 209 Brecht, Bertolt, 115 Brightman, E. S., 74, 96, 125, 133, 192 Broad, C. D., 84, 188 Brooks, Phillips, 60 Brown, Stuart C, 210 Brunner, Emil, 63 Bruno, Giordano, 146 Bruteau, Beatrice, 20 Buber, Martin, 148 Buddha, Lord, 3, 4, 8, 21, 33, 35, 92, 96, 117, 130, 138, 145, 148. 161,226 Buddhism, 1, 3, 5, 14, 15, 143, 183, 223 and anti-rationalism, 28 and axiology, 182 and celibacy, 157 and eternaiism, 72 and evolution, 28 and extraordinary claims, 38, 48 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 53, 56, 79, 88, 103, 193 and historical events, 33-34, 50 and immortality, 190

INDEX and karma, 49, 55, 90, 109, 126127, 135, 181, 186,214 language of, 205 Mahayana, 2, 205 and monotheism, 78 and morality, 89, 163 and mysticism, 219 Nepalese, 2 and polytheism, 55 and reason, 30 and reincarnation, 49, 186, 187, 193, 195 and ritual, 159 and scriptural interpretation, 45 and self, 172, 173 and soul, 177 and suffering, 116, 117, 130-131 Theravada, 2, 149, 186 Tibetan, 2, 6, 21, 150, 166 and worship, 139 Zen, 140, 164, 172,219 Bultmann, Rudolf, 206 bundle theory, 26, 178 Burns, Robert, 213 Burtt, E. A., 121 Cadoux, Cecil, 13,37,51, 165 Calvary, 73 Calvin, John, 91, 146, 164, 181, 226 Calvinism, 73, 164 Campbell, Joesph, 9 Caodaist Church, 166 carbon-14 dating, 36 caste, 8, 161 Catholicism, Roman, 2, 17, 23, 30, 41, 45, 55, 63, 139, 141, 144, 148, 151, 157, 159, 160, 166, 186, 197,203,228 causal argument, 87-89 cause, 26, 87-89, 102 Cayce, Edgar, 41 celibacy, 157-159 Central America, 2 Chance and Necessity (Monod), 84 Chin vat Bridge, 198 Christianity, 1, 2, 6, 13, 17, 28, 157, 223 and axiology, 182 and celibacy, 157, 158 and deism, 62-64

Taking Religious Claims and dualism, 119 and eschatology, 197-198 and eternalism, 73 and evil, 123 and extraordinary claims, 38-39, 42,48 and forgiveness, 18 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 53-54, 71, 79, 87 and the good, 70 and historical events, 33-34, 50 and immortality, 185-187, 196, 197 and infallibility, 228 language of, 205, 213 and morality, 89, 163 and mysticism, 219 and occultism, 42 Orthodox, 2, 16 and prayer, 56, 74 and scriptural interpretation, 45 and self, 172 and soul, 176 tradition of, 19 See also specific sects Christians, born-again, 9 Christian Science, 1, 18, 38, 66, 126, 223 Christology, 73 Churchill, Winston, 117 Church of England, 30 Church of Jesus Christ of LatterDay Saints, 19, 34, 156, 166, 195,211,223 See also Mormonism Claudel, Paul, 99 Colossians, 27 Communion, Holy, 143 Comte, Auguste, 106 Confessions, The (Augustine), 57 Confirmation, 80 Confucianism, 1, 6, 8, 15, 223 and anti-rationalism, 28 and celibacy, 157 and deism, 62 and eschatology, 197 and evolution, 28 and extraordinary claims, 38, 49 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 53, 79

Seriously

249

and historical events, 33 and immortality, 185, 196 and morality, 71 and mysticism, 219 and prayer, 56 and reason, 30 and self, 172 Confucius, 89, 156, 161, 163, 182, 185,226 Conscience and Christ (Rashdall), 167 conversion, religious, 12, 137-138 Conway, Moncure, 8 Conze, Edward, 164 Coolidge, Calvin, 151 Copernican astronomy, 104 Cortez, Hernando, 142, 146 cosmological argument, 90 Costello, Harry, 16 Cott, Jonathan, 193 creationism, 85 Crick, Francis, 152 Critique of Practical Reason (Kant), 90 Critique of Pure Reason (Kant), 90, 101 Crown of Wild Olive (Ruskin), 154 Crucifixion, the, 22 Cullman, Oscar, 186 cults, 9, 224 Dante Alighieri, 199 Darwin, Charles, 28, 74, 102 David, 37, 152, 154 Dead Sea Scrolls, 35 De Burgh, W. G„ 217 deduction, 25-26 deism, 62-65, 69, 88, 152 De Rerum Natura (Lucretius), 110 Descartes, Rene, 64, 101, 191 design, argument from, 83-87 determinism, 180-181 Dewey, John, 146 Dharma, Santana, 20 Dialogues on Natural Religion (Hume), 113 Digambara, 14, 157 disasters, natural, 112, 115, 117, 120 disease, 84, 99. 113, 115, 121, 126, 135 dispensations, 46

250 double-truth, 30, 215 Druids, 2 dualism, 69, 119 Ducasse, C. J., 38, 188 Durga, 55, 120, 140 duty, 94, 181 dvaitic Vedanta, 31 Easter, 48, 141, 159 Eckankar, 221 eclecticism, 18 ecology, 114 ecumenism, 7, 17 Eddy, Mary Baker, 19, 34, 66, 126, 223 Edison, Thomas, 38 Edmunds Act, 156 Egypt, 2, 35 Eightfold Path, 130, 164, 172 Einstein, Albert, 69, 84, 97 Elijah, 18,56,74 Elisha, 39 Elizabeth, Queen, 14 Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 189 Enoch, 37 Epicurus, 110, 132, 191 eschatology, 185, 197-199 ESP, 38 eternalism, 72-75 etiolatry, 87 Eucharist, 63, 160 Eve, 40, 180,205 evil, problem of, 100, 111-136 evolution, 28, 59, 69, 85, 97, 103, 132133 Evolution toward Divinity (Bruteau), 20 exclusivism, 16 existentialism, 206 religious, 23, 164 explanation, theory of, 107-108 Exodus, Book of, 8 Exodus, the, 33 exorcism, 41 Extreme Unction, 148 Ezekiel, Book of, 57 fanaticism, 83 Farrer, Austin, 113, 127, 136 Fasching, 141

INDEX Fatima, 34, 46 Faust (Goethe), 120 Fechner, Gustav, 191 Feuerbach, Ludwig, 61, 78, 106 Fichte, J. G., 67, 85, 128 first cause, 87 First Holy Communipn, 155 five ways, 101-102 Flood, the, 36 forgiveness, 18 Forgotten Truth (Smith), 21 Formgeschichte, 206 Four Noble Truths, 117 Fox, George, 81 Francis, Saint, 4, 105, 173,211 Frankl, Viktor, 61 Franklin, Benjamin, 62 Frazer, James, 9 freedom, 24 "Free Man's Worship, A" (Russell), 96 freewill, 179-183 Freud, Sigmund, 19, 60-61, 189 Fundamentalism, 5, 63, 64, 70, 119, 167,204,217-218,227-228 funeral ceremonies, 4 Galileo, 221 Game with Minutes, 148 Gandhi, Mahatma, 4, 16, 35, 96, 106, 128, 154, 158, 163, 165 Ganesa, 140 Ganga River, 36, 40 Garden of Eden, 180 Gassendi, Pierre, 101 Gaunilo, 101Gautama, Siddhartha, 3, 33, 40, 137, 161, 195 Geach, Peter, 150, 189 Gellner, Ernest, 213 Gemara, 45 Genesis, Book of, 38, !15 genetics, 105 Genghis Khan, 96, 114, 116 geology, 36, 74, 103 geometry, 25 Gibran, Khalil, 66 Glasenapp, Helmuth von, 90, 108 Glaube, 7, 9 God, characteristics of, 132

Taking Religious Claims Concept of, 53-76 as conscious, 56-62, 79 as creativity, 59-60 and evolution, 59 existence of, 77-110 and the good, 70-72 as ground of being, 59-60 and history, 72-75 immanence of, 68 and nature, 62-70 religious experience of, 80-83 as truth, 61 "God is dead" movement, 223 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang von, 120 Goliath, 37 Graham, Billy, 120 Granth, the, 203 Greece, 2,21 Greeks, 54 GruGGott, 145 Gurdjieff, G. I., 219,224 Hadith, 45, 206 Hajj, 159 Hammurabi, 71, 89 Hanbalite,. 166 Hanifite, 166 Hanuman, 49, 55 Harappa, 35 Hare, R. M., 209-210 Hartshorne, Charles, 57, 69, 75, 87, 101, 123-124, 133, 177 Hasidism, 68 Hawking, Stephen, 86, 88 health and religion, 41 Heaven, 176, 186, 189, 195, 197 Hebrews, Book of, 81 Hegel, G." W. F., 59, 60, 63, 67, 74, 101, 127, 191, 199 Hegira, 33 Hell, 176, 185, 189, 197 henotheism, 17, 54 Heraclitus, 97 Herod, 39 Heschel, Rabbi, 4 Hick, John, 107, 193 Himmler, Heinrich, 173 Hinduism, 1, 2, 3, 5, 18, 19, 47, 137, 139, 161, 172, 183, 187 advaitic Vedanta, 20

Seriously

251

and animal sacrifice, 16, 143 and axiology, 182 and caste, 8 and celibacy, 157, 158 and deism, 62 divisions in, 13 and evolution, 28 and extraordinary claims, 38, 42, 48 and God, 54, 79, 87 and the good, 70 and historical events, 33-34, 50 and karma, 49, 56, 90-92, 181, 186,214 language of, 203 and marriage, 155, 157 and meditation, 6 and miracles, 39 and morality, 163 and mysticism, 219 origins of, 35 Orthodox, 15 and pantheism, 65, 66 and pilgrimage, 142 and polytheism, 55, 120 and prayer, 56, 74 and relncafnation, 49, 186, 195 and ritual, 159 Saivite, 2 and soul, 176 and suffering, 116 Tantric, 2 Vaishnavite, 2 Hirohito, 40 Hirschbein, Ron, 8 history and God, 72-75 history of religion, 9 Hitler, Adolf, 67, 93, 96, 108, 114 Hobbes, Thomas, 30, 171 Hocking, William, 101, 144 Holy Communion, 143 Holy Living and Holy Dying (Taylor), 150 House of Lie, 197, 198 House of Song, 198 human sacrifice, 8, 18, 142-143 Hume, David, 25-26, 84, 87, 101, 113, 177, 191,210 Hussain, 34

252 Huxley, Francis, 162 Huxley, Julian, 86 idolatry, 8 Ignatius Loyola, 148 Imitation of Christ (Kempis), 148 immortality, 185-189 conditional, 196-197 denial of. 188-190 objective, 190, 194 support for, 190-193 India, 2, 142, 159 infallibility, 228-229 infanticide, 8, 143 Inge, Dean, 52 Ingersoll, Robert, 12, 102 Inner Light, 81 Inquisition, Spanish, 146 Irenaeus, 127 Isaac, 17 Isaiah, Book of, 8, 57 Iscariot, Judas, 117 Islam, 1,2, 14, 19,40,73, 142 and anthropomorphism, 58 and anti-rationalism, 28 and celibacy, 158 and deism, 62, 63 divisions in, 13 and dualism, 119 and eschatology, 197-198, 199 and eternalism, 73 and extraordinary claims, 38-39 and God, 53-54, 71, 79, 87 and the good, 70 and historical events, 33-34, 50 and immortality, 186, 187, 196, 197 and infallibility, 228 language of, 203, 205 and morality, 89, 163 and mysticism, 219 and pilgrimage, 159 and polygamy, 156 and prayer, 56 and reason, 30 and ritual, 159 and scriptural interpretation, 45 and self, 172 and soul, 176 Israel, 17,73, 145

INDEX Israelites, ,35 Izanagi, 22 Izanami, 22 Jacob, 17,45 Jaimini, 203 Jainism, 1, 5, 8, 14, 21, 22, 37, 138, 142, 161, 182, 183, 226 and atheism, 53,79, 193 and celibacy, .157, 158 and Fundamentalism, 217 and historical events, 33, 40 and karma, 49, 55, 90, 109, 135, 181,214 and morality, 89, 163 and mysticism, 219 and pilgrimage, 142 and reincarnation, 49, 186, 195 and self, 172 and suffering, 116 and worship, 140, 141 Jai-Radha, 145 James, William, 138-139 Jansen, Bishop Cornelius, 181 Japan, 11,22, 108, 142 Jayatilleke, K. N„ 103 Jefferson, Thomas, 62 Jehovah, 50, 54, 64, 73 Jehovah's Witnesses, 17, 198 Jeremiah, 137 Jericho, 35 Jessop, T. E., 99 Jesus Christ, 6, 16, 21, 22, 33, 48, 57, 59,62,63,73,92,96, 105, 106, 107, 117, 120, 121, 137, 138, 141, 143, 145, 152, 154, 161, 189, 195, 198,204,213 birth of, 36 burial of, 51 footprint of, 35, 37 and miracles, 38, 39 Jihad, 146 jiva, 172, 182 Joad, C. E. M„ 192 Job, Book of, 86, 118 John, Gospel of, 82 Jones, Rufus, 11, 66, 138 Jonestown, 17, 223 Joseph, 36, 39 Joseph, Saint, 55

Taking Religious Claims Joshua, 44 Joyce, James, 3 Judaism, 1, 2 and anti-rationalism, 28 and axiology, 182 and celibacy, 157, 158 and deism, 62-64 and dualism, 119 and eschatology, 197-198 and eternalism, 73 and extraordinary claims, 38-39, 48 and forgiveness, 18 and God, 53-54, 71,79, 87 and the good, 70 and historical events, 33-34, 50 and immortality, 185, 187, 196, 197 language of, 205 and monotheism, 54 and morality, 89, 162-163 and mysticism, 68, 219 and occultism, 42 and polytheism, 54 and prayer, 56, 74 and scriptural interpretation, 45 and self, 172 and soul, 176 tradition of, 19 and worship, 139 Jude, Saint, 55 Judgment Day, 185, 198 Jupiter, 54 Kaaba, the, 8, 142, 159 Kali, 55, 157 Kant, Immanuel, 6, 26, 59, 71, 74, 84, 90, 101, 164, 178, 181, 191, 192, 193 karma, 5, 18, 20, 49, 55-56, 65, 66, 85, 89-92, 96, 108-109, 122, 123, 126-127, 135, 173-174, 177, 181, 182, 183, 186, 191-193, 195,214,222,225 Kierkegaard, Soren, 63, 91, 163, 164 King, Martin Luther, Jr., 4, 53, 81. 106, 107, 154 Kipling, Rudyard, 143 Knox, John, 226 Knudson, A. C , 19,217

Seriously

253

Koran, 2, 19, 38, 63, 89, 137, 163, 165, 167, 199,203,217,228 Krishna, Lord, 41 Krishnamurti, Jiddu, 16, 224 KumNye, 18 Kushner, Rabbi, 134 Laird, John, 192 Lakshmi, 36, 157 language, Arabic, 14, 217, 228 language-game, 202, 206, 208-213 LaoTzu, 161,226 Laubach, Frank, 148 law, Islamic, 15 natural, 85-86, 98 Lazarus, 39 Leibniz, G. W., 59, 101, 178, 191 Lenin, Vladimir, 47 Leninism, 167 Lent, 141, 159 Leviticus, Book of, 160 liberation theology, 165 Limbo, 176 Lincoln, Abraham, 154 linguistic turn, 214 literalism, 217-218 Locke, John, 62, 178 Loisy, Alfred, 37 Lotze, Rudolf, 90 Lourdes, 36, 41,46, 142 Lovejoy, Arthur O., 53 Lucas, J. R., 180 Lucretius, 110, 191 Lusitania, 42 Luther, Martin, 28, 35, 91, 120, 226 Lutheranism, 14, 30 Maclntyre, Alasdair, 209, 211 Madhva, 160 Magi, 36 magic, 8 Maharaja, 223 Mahavira, 8. 21. 37. 138, 145. 161, 226 Mahdi, 198 Malachite, 166 Malcolm, Norman, 101 Malcolm X, 107 Manhattan Project, 108

254 Manichaeism, 119 Man's Religions (Noss), 40 Manu, Laws of, 160 Mark, 13 marriage, 15, 155-156 Marx, Karl, 47 Marxism, 19, 61, 74, 107, 165, 167 Mary, 36, 39 Masani, Rustom, 119 materialism, 171 mathematics, 25 Matheson, George, 66 maya, 65, 67, 69, 72. 75, 99, 126 McTaggart, John, 195 "Meaning and Justification of Religious Symbols, The" (Tillich), 207 Mecca, 33, 142, 159 medicine, 18,42, 104 meditation, 6, 148-149 Melanesia, 2 Mencius, 182 Mencken, H. L., 226 Mendelssohn, Moses, 211 Menuhin, Yehudi, 84 Merton, Thomas, 151, 158 metaphysics, 202 Methuselah, 37, 40 Micah, Book of, 161 Mikki, Nakayama, 161 Mill, John Stuart, 224 millennialism, 198 Milton, John, 120, 183 Minakshi, 55 mind, philosophy of, 171-172 miracles, 25, 28, 38, 39, 40, 41, 43, 45, 64,207,218,219,227 Mishnah, 45, 206 Mohammed, 2, 8, 18, 21, 22, 33, 34, 35. 57, 59, 64, 80, 92, 96, 106. 107, 120, 137, 143, 145, 152, 154. 161,217.226 Mohanjo-Daro, 35 Moira, 55 moksha, 174 Monod, Jacques, 84 monotheism, 54-56, 78 Moon, Sun Myung, 19, 34, 40, 223 Moore, George Foote, 226

INDEX morality, 5, 6, 89-97, 162-169 moral standards, argument from, 8997 Moral Values and the Idea of God (Sorley), 9Q Mormon, Book of, 19, 41 Mormonism, 1, 17,40.48, 156, 189 language of, 211 See also Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-D&y Saints Moroni, 34 Moses, 40, 50," 59, 80, 92. 137, 152, 154, 161 Mount of Olives, 37 Muharram, 139, 141 Muslims, 5, 17,'21 Muste, A. J., 138 mysticism, 3, 31, 68, 144, 149, 218219 myth, 9, 21-22, 50 Nanak, Guru, 21, 35, 41, 59, 137, 138, 161 Nativity, 40 natural disasters, 112, 115, 117, 120 "Natural History of Atheism, The" (Bowne), 78 nature and God, 62-70 Nature, Mind, and Death (Ducasse), 38 naturopathy, 18 Nazareth, 36, 39 Nemesis, 113 Neo-Calvinism, 164 Neo-Platonism, 65, 123 Neo-Protestantism, 29 Nepal, 2 Nero, 96 Newton, Isaac, 69, 97 Nichiren, 19 Niebuhr, Reinhold, 64, 226 Nielsen, Kai, 215 Nietzsche, Friedrich, 100 Nirvana, 72, 172, 174, 177, 186, 190, 195, 196 nisus, 60, 70 Noah's ark 39, 40, 217 Noss, John B. 40, 142 nuclear weapons, 8 numerology, 41

Taking Religious Claims objective immortality, 190, 194 Occam's razor, 124 occultism, 42, 48 "Ode on the Intimations of Immortality" (Wordsworth), 194-195 Olcott, H. S„ 224 Ono, Sokyo, 203 ontological argument, 90, 101 Origin of Species, The (Darwin), 74 overpopulation, 112, 114 Owen, H. P., 58, 90, 91 Paine, Thomas, 62, 221 paleontology, 103 Paley, William, 62, 84 palmistry, 8, 41, 48 panentheism, 69 Panja Sahib temple, 35 pantheism, 65-68 Paradise Lost (Milton), 120, 183 parapsychology, 188 Parsees, 15, 56, 70, 74, 89, 120, 139, 159, 160, 162, 197 parthenogenesis, 43 Parvati, 14, 157 Pascal, Blaise, 23 Passover, 22, 33, 34, 40, 41, 44, 45, 48, 49, 50, 141 Patterson, Robert, 86 Paul, Saint, 8, 13, 27, 42, 45, 51, 80, 137, 152, 154, 163, 196,227 Penfield, Wilder, 174, 190 Pentecost, 33 Peter, 39 Pharaoh, 115 Philippines, 2 Phillips, D. Z., 209 Philo Judaeus, 45, 63, 195,205 philosophy and religion, 3, 30-31, 78, 101,202 philosophy of mind, 171-172 physicalism, 187, 193 physics, 87 Pickthall, Mohammad, 228 Pilate, Pontius, 37 pilgrimage, 142, 159 plague, 103, 113 Plato, 26, 29, 59, 85, 90, 96, 124, 176, 182, 190, 192, 194, 195 Plotinus, 65, 123, 191

Seriously

255

pluralism, 21 polygamy, 156 polytheism, 8, 54-56, 120 Pope, 166,228 positivism, logical, 201-202, 207 Pratt, James B., 144 prayer, 56, 73-74, 82, 147-154, 203 Price, H. H., 151, 152 primitivism, 2, 7, 20, 28 predestination, 181 Process and Reality (Whitehead), 74 Process Theology, 60, 69 prophecy, 28 Prophet, The (Gibran), 66 Protestantism, 14, 28, 146, 159, 203, 217 and celibacy, 157 and deism, 63 and scriptural interpretation, 45 Providence, 64, 75, 99, 104, 207 pseudepigrapha, 39 pseudosciences, 9 psychic surgery, 43 psychology of religion, 9 psychotherapy, 9 Freudian, 106 Ptolemaic astronomy, 104 Pure Land sect, 186,205 Purgatory, 147, 148, 176, 197 Purpose in a World of Chance (Thorpe), 84 Purva Mimamsa, 47, 61, 203 Quakerism, 4, 11, 49, 63, 81, 139, 144 racial conflict, 107 Rajneesh, Bhagwan, 41 Ramadan, 141, 159,212 Ramakrishna, Sri, 4, 15, 59, 80, 137, 160,211,226 Ramanuja, 91, 160,226 Ramayana, 49 Ram Lila festival, 49 Rashdall, Hastings, 90, 167 Rauschenbusch, Walter, 145, 154, 226 reason and religion, 24-31, 77-79 Receptacle, the, 124 Red Sea, parting of, 40, 50 Reformation, 14

256 reincarnation, 23, 49, 122, 173-174, 186, 187, 193, 195-196 relics, 35 religion, aesthetics of, 6 and anti-rationalism, 27 and astronomy, 36 attitudes toward, 4-7 cognitive nature of, 201-219 comparative, 1-7 criticisms of, 225-226 demands of, 155-162 development of, 2-3 disagreements in, 15-23 diversity of, 11-24 ethical demands of, 162-169 and geology, 36 and health, 41 and historical events, 3 3 ^ 0 and historical method, 34^10 history of, 9 language of, 201-219 and Marxism, 61 and persons, 171-183 and philosophy, 3, 11, 30-31, 78, 101,202 primitive, 7 psychology of, 9 and reason, 24-31,77-79 and science, 9-10, 24-25, 46-47, 84-86 sociology of, 9 and superstition, 7-9 and truth, 11-12 See also specific religions reminiscence, doctrine of, 194 Resurrection, the, 22, 33, 34, 40, 41, 44, 48, 49, 50, 141 Rig Veda, 190 Rishabha, 37 rites of passage, 141 Robinson, T. H., 37 Romans, 54 Rome, 2, 21 Roosevelt, Franklin D., 108 Rosicrucians, 223 Royce, Josiah, 128 Rumi, 20 Runcie, Robert, 81 Ruskin, John, 154

INDEX Russell, Bertrand, 96, 109, 191 Russian Orthodox Church, 167 sacrifice, animal, 8, 16, 142-143,226 human, 8, 18, 142-143 SaiBaba, 35, 41, 139,223 saints, 3-5, 151 Saivite, 2, 226 samadhi, 5,31 Sangha, 137 sannydsin, 157, 158 Santana Dharma, 20 Sargant, William, 43 Sartre, Jean-Paul, 57 Satan, 17, 42, 70, 119-120, 214-215 Sat Nam, 55, 58, 137 Satyagraha, 163 Saul, King, 8 Savonarola, Girolamo, 226 Schilling, Friedrich, 60, 67 Schopenhauer, Arthur, 70, 100, 109 Schurman, J. G., 85 Schweitzer, Albert, 92, 106, 130, 198, 228 Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures (Eddy), 19, 34 science and religion, 9-10, 24-25, 4647, 84-86 scientific method, 24, 79, 92-94, 108, 180 seance, 38 Search for Omm Sety: A Story of Eternal Love, The (Cott), 193 sectarianism, 17 self, 26, 172 Servetus, 146 Sevener, 17 Seven Storey Mountain (Merton), 151 Seventh Day Adventism, 17 Shafiite, 166 Shakers, 139 Shakespeare, William, 3, 69 Shankara, 226 Shekhina, 150 Sheol, 197 Shiism, 2, 5, 17, 34, 139, 141, 166, 218 Shintoism, 1, 15, 21, 22, 40, 71, 139, 157, 161, 182

Taking Religious Claims Seriously and celibacy, 157 and eschatology, 197 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 79 and historical events, 33-34 and immortality, 185 and morality, 163 and mysticism, 219 and pilgrimage, 142 and polytheism, 55 and prayer, 56, 203 and self, 172 and worship, 140 Shiva, Lord, 36, 40, 157, 163 Shravana Belgola, 141 shroud of Turin, 35 Shurman, Jacob Gould, 133 Sikhism, 1, 18,20, 137, 138, 186 and anthropomorphism, 58 and celibacy, 157 and deism, 62 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 53, 79, 87 and historical events, 33, 40 and karma, 214 language of, 203 and monotheism, 55 and morality, 89, 163 and mysticism, 219 and prayer, 56, 74 and self, 172 Sikhs, 15, 19,20,41, 167 Singh, Trilochan, 181 Sita, 157 Siva, 57 skepticism, 59, 92, 93 Skinner, B. F„ 106, 109 Smith, Huston, 21 Smith, Joseph, 17, 34, 41, 48, 211, 223 Society for the Scientific Study of Religion, 9 Society of Friends. See Quakerism sociobiology, 109 sociology, 106 of religion, 9 Socrates, 26, 29, 194 SokaGakkai, 1, 11, 19 Solomon, King, 42 sorcery, 8 Sorley, W. R., 90

257

soul, 24, 176-177, 191 South Africa, 107 Soviet Union, 47, 167 Space, Time, and Deity (Alexander), 74 Spencer, Herbert, 103 Spenta Mainyu, 119 Spinoza, Benedict, 25, 30, 50, 58, 67, 74,75,87, 101, 121, 191 Sri Lanka, 2, 108 Stalin, Josef, 93, 96, 114, 173 Steere, Douglas, 66, 151 Steiner, Rudolf, 219, 223 Stientencron, Heinrich von, 122 Stonehenge, 2 subjectivism, 93 substance, 26 suffering, 111-136 Sufism, 3, 20, 68, 141,219 suicide, 75 Sunni, 2, 17, 166 superstition, 7-9, 24, 48 surgery, psychic, 43 Swedenborg, Emmanuel, 25, 219 symbols, 207 Symposium (Plato), 194 Taj Mahal, 144 Talmud, 45, 206 Tantrism, 2, 145 Tao, 55, 71,72, 89, 163 Taoism, 1, 2, 21, 33, 41, 137, 146, 161 and celibacy, 157 and eschatology, 197 and eternalism, 72 and extraordinary claims, 38, 49 and Fundamentalism, 217 and God, 79 and immortality, 185, 195 and morality, 71, 163 and mysticism, 68, 219 and pilgrimage, 142 and polytheism, 55 and prayer, 56 and self, 172 Tao te Ching, 89 Taubes, Jacob, 104 Taylor, A. J. P., 4 Taylor, Jeremy, 150 Taylor, Richard, 98

258 technology, 104 Teilhard de Chardin, Pierre, 20 teleological argument, 83-87, 90 telepathy, 38 Tell, William, 51-52 Temple of the Tooth, 35 temporalism, 72 Ten Commandments, 33, 40, 50, 71, 89, 121, 141, 163 Tennant, Frederick R., 91 Tennyson, Alfred Lord, 112 Tenon, Jurniso, 40 TenriKyo, 142, 157, 161 Teresa, Mother, 106, 159, 173 Thailand, 2 theism, 4, 68-70 theodicy, 127 Theory of Good and Evil (Rashdall), 90 Theosophy, 16, 19, 224 Thomas Aquinas, Saint, 29, 30, 70, 79, 90, 101, 102, 132, 157, 191 Thorpe, W. H , 84 Tibet, 2 Tillich, Paul, 29, 46, 59, 72, 78, 131, 183,206-207 Timaeus, 124 time, 72-75 Tirthankaras, 37, 140, 186 Toland, John, 62 Tolstoy, Leo, 106, 160, 187 Tonkin Gulf, 42 Towards a Religious Philosophy (De Burgh), 217 tower of Babel, 36 traducianism, 173 Trinity, 55, 56 truth, 11-12,30,61,215 Twain, Mark, 226 Twelver, 17

INDEX Vedanta, 20, 21, 29, 31, 65, 72, 73, 125-126 Vedas, 3, 61, 203-204 Vienna Circle, 216 Vietnam War, 42 Vincent de Paul, Saint, 4, 158 Virgil, 52 Virgin Birth, 40 Virgin Mary, 14,36, 137, 157 vishishtadvaitic Vedanta, 31, 176 Vishnu, 21, 157, 163 Vivekananda, Swami, 80, 92, 137, 226 Waterloo, Battle of, 34 Watts, Alan, 108 Way of the Sacred, The (Huxley), 162 Webb, C. C. J., 51 weddings, 4 Weisz, Paul, 174 Weitz, Morris, 214 Wesley, John, 226 "What Is Religion?" (Tolstoy), 160 whirling dervishes, 139 Whitehead, A. N., 60, 70, 74-75, 136, 177, 190, 192, 194,213 Why God Gave Me Pain (Holdren), 118 widow immolation, 18 Wieman, Henry N„ 59, 149 will, free, 179-182 Wilson, John Cook, 91 witchcraft, 2, 41 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 202, 210, 216 "Wittgensteinian Fideias" (Nielsen), 215 Wolfson, H. A., 205 Wolterstorff, Nicholas, 29 Wordsworth, William, 194 worship, 139-146 Xenophanes, 57

Underhill, Evelyn, 149 Unification Church, 19, 34, 40 Unitarian-Universalism, 49 Upanishads, 3, 65, 72, 206

Yahweh, 3, 18,54, 160 yoga, 6, 67, 149, 164, 172 yogis, 43, 139, 141, 175

Vaishnavite, 2, 21,226 value, 111-136 Varieties of Religious Experience, The (James), 138

Zaccheus, 138 Zen Buddhism, 140, 164, 172,219 Zeus, 54 Zoroaster, 59, 138, 143, 145, 161, 226

Taking Religious Claims Seriously Zoroastrian Fire Temple, 159, 160 Zoroastrianism, 1, 18, 33, 40, 55, 80, 119, 141, 142, 190,223 and celibacy, 157, 158 and deism, 62 and eschatology, 197-198 and eternalism, 72 and God, 53, 79, 87 and immortality, 185, 196 and mysticism, 219 and self, 172 Zuurdeeg, Willem, 215

259

VIBS

The Value Inquiry Book Series is co-sponsored by: American Maritain Association American Society for Value Inquiry Association for Personalist Studies Association for Process Philosophy of Education Center for East European Dialogue and Development, Rochester Institute of Technology Centre for Cultural Research, Aarhus University College of Education and Allied Professions, Bowling Green State University Concerned Philosophers for Peace Conference of Philosophical Societies Institute of Philosophy of the High Council of Scientific Research, Spain International Academy of Philosophy of the Principality of Liechtenstein International Society for Universalism Natural Law Society Philosophical Society of Finland Philosophy Born of Struggle Association Philosophy Seminar, University of Mainz R.S. Hartman Institute for Formal and Applied Axiology Society for Iberian and Latin-American Thought Society for the Philosophic Study of Genocide and the Holocaust Society for the Philosophy of Sex and Love Yves R. Simon Institute.

Titles Published 1. Noel Balzer, The Human Being as a Logical Thinker. 2. Archie J. Bahm, Axiology: The Science of Values. 3. H. P. P. (Hennie) Lotter, Justice for an Unjust Society. 4. H. G. Callaway, Contextfor Meaning and Analysis: A Critical Study in the Philosophy of Language. 5. Benjamin S. Llamzon, A Humane Case for Moral Intuition. 6. James R. Watson, Between Auschwitz and Tradition: Postmodern Reflections on the Task of Thinking. A volume in Holocaust and Genocide Studies. 7. Robert S. Hartman, Freedom to Live: The Robert Hartman Story, edited by Arthur R. Ellis. A volume in Hartman Institute Axiology Studies. 8. Archie J. Bahm, Ethics: The Science of Oughtness. 9. George David Miller, An Idiosyncratic Ethics; Or, the Lauramachean Ethics. 10. Joseph P. DeMarco, A Coherence Theory in Ethics. 11. Frank G. Forrest, Valuemetrics": The Science of Personal andProfessional Ethics. A volume in Hartman Institute Axiology Studies. 12. William Gerber, The Meaning of Life: Insights of the World's Great Thinkers. 13. Richard T. Hull, Editor, A Quarter Century of Value Inquiry: Presidential Addresses of the American Society for Value Inquiry. A volume in Histories and Addresses of Philosophical Societies. 14. William Gerber, Nuggets of Wisdom from Great Jewish Thinkers: From Biblical Times to the Present. 15. Sidney Axinn, The Logic of Hope: Extensions of Kant's View of Religion.

16. Messay Kebede, Meaning and Development. 17. Amihud Gilead, The Platonic Odyssey: A Philosophical-Literary Inquiry into the Phaedo. 18. Necip Fikri Alican, Mill's Principle of Utility: A Defense of John Stuart Mill's Notorious Proof. A volume in Universal Justice. 19. Michael H. Mitias, Editor, Philosophy and Architecture. 20. Roger T. Simonds, Rational Individualism: The Perennial Philosophy of Legal Interpretation. A volume in Natural Law Studies. 21. William Pencak, The Conflict of Law and Justice in the Icelandic Sagas. 22. Samuel M. Natale and Brian M. Rothschild, Editors, Values, Work, Education: The Meanings of Work. 23. N. Georgopoulos and Michael Heim, Editors, Being Human in the Ultimate: Studies in the Thought of John M. Anderson. 24. Robert Wesson and Patricia A. Williams, Editors, Evolution and Human Values. 25. Wim J. van der Steen, Facts, Values, and Methodology: A New Approach to Ethics. 26. Avi Sagi and Daniel Statman, Religion and Morality. 27. Albert William Levi, The High Road of Humanity: The Seven Ethical Ages of Western Man, edited by Donald Phillip Verene and Molly Black Verene. 28. Samuel M. Natale and Brian M. Rothschild, Editors, Work Values: Education, Organization, and Religious Concerns. 29. Laurence F. Bove and Laura Duhan Kaplan, Editors, From the Eye of the Storm: Regional Conflicts and the Philosophy of Peace. A volume in Philosophy of Peace. 30. Robin Attfield, Value, Obligation, and Meta-Ethics.

31. William Gerber, The Deepest Questions You Can Ask About God: As Answered by the World's Great Thinkers. 32. Daniel Statman, Moral Dilemmas. 33. Rem B. Edwards, Editor, Formal Axiology and Its Critics. A volume in Hartman Institute Axiology Studies. 34. George David Miller and Conrad P. Pritscher, On Education and Values: In Praise of Pariahs and Nomads. A volume in Philosophy of Education. 35. Paul S. Penner, Altruistic Behavior: An Inquiry into Motivation. 36. Corbin Fowler, Morality for Moderns. 37. Giambattista Vico, The Art of Rhetoric (Institutiones Oratoriae, 17111741), from the definitive Latin text and notes, Italian commentary and introduction by Giuliano Crifo, translated and edited by Giorgio A. Pinton and Arthur W. Shippee. A volume in Values in Italian Philosophy. 38. W. H. Werkmeister, Martin Heidegger on the Way, edited by Richard T. Hull. A volume in Werkmeister Studies. 39. Phillip Stambovsky, Myth and the Limits of Reason. 40. Samantha Brennan, Tracy Isaacs, and Michael Milde, Editors, A Question of Values: New Canadian Perspectives in Ethics and Political Philosophy. 41. Peter A. Redpath, Cartes ian Nightmare: An Introduction to Transcendental Sophistry. A volume in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy. 42. Clark Butler, History as the Story of Freedom: Philosophy in Intercultural Context, with Responses by sixteen scholars. 43. Dennis Rohatyn, Philosophy History Sophistiy. 44. Leon Shaskolsky Sheleff, Social Cohesion and Legal Coercion: A Critique of Weber, Durkheim, and Marx. Afterword by Virginia Black.

45. Alan Soble, Editor, Sex, Love, and Friendship: Studies of the Society for

the Philosophy of Sex and Love, 1977-1992. A volume in Histories and Addresses of Philosophical Societies. 46. Peter A. Redpath, Wisdom's Odyssey: From Philosophy to Transcendental Sophistry. A volume in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy. 47. Albert A. Anderson, UniversalJustice: A Dialectical Approach. A volume in Universal Justice. 48. Pio Colonnello, The Philosophy of Jose Gaos. Translated from Italian by Peter Cocozzella. Edited by Myra Moss. Introduction by Giovanni Gullace. A volume in Values in Italian Philosophy. 49. Laura Duhan Kaplan and Laurence F. Bove, Editors, Philosophical Perspectives on Power and Domination: Theories and Practices. A volume in Philosophy of Peace. 50. Gregory F. Mellema, Collective Responsibility. 51. Josef Seifert, What Is Life? The Originality, Irreducibility, and Value of Life. A volume in Central-European Value Studies. 52. William Gerber, Anatomy of What We Value Most. 53. Armando Molina, Our Ways: Values and Character, edited by Rem B. Edwards. A volume in Hartman Institute Axiology Studies. 54. Kathleen J. Wininger, Nietzsche's Reclamation of Philosophy. A volume in Central-European Value Studies. 55. Thomas Magnell, Editor, Explorations of Value. 56. HPP (Hennie) Lotter, Injustice, Violence, and Peace: The Case of South Africa. A volume in Philosophy of Peace. 57. Lennart Nordenfelt, Talking About Health: A Philosophical Dialogue. A volume in Nordic Value Studies. 58. Jon Mills and Janusz A. Polanowski, The Ontology of Prejudice. A volume in Philosophy and Psychology. 59. Leena Vilkka, The Intrinsic Value of Nature.

60. Palmer Talbutt, Jr., Rough Dialectics: Sorokin 's Philosophy of Value, with Contributions by Lawrence T. Nichols and Pitirim A. Sorokin. . 61. C. L. Sheng, A Utilitarian General Theory of Value. 62. George David Miller, Negotiating Toward Truth: The Extinction of Teachers and Students. Epilogue by Mark Roelof Eleveld. A volume in Philosophy of Education. 63. William Gerber, Love, Poetry, and Immortality: Luminous Insights of the World's Great Thinkers. 64. Dane R. Gordon, Editor, Philosophy in Post-Communist Europe. A volume in Post-Communist European Thought. 65. Dane R. Gordon and Jozef Niznik, Editors, Criticism and Defense of Rationality in Contemporary Philosophy. A volume in Post-Communist European Thought. 66. John R. Shook, Pragmatism: An Annotated Bibliography, 1898-1940. With Contributions by E. Paul Colella, Lesley Friedman, Frank X. Ryan, and Ignas K. Skrupskelis. 67. Lansana Keita, The Human Project and the Temptations of Science. 68. Michael M. Kazanjian, Phenomenology and Education: Cosmology, CoBeing, and Core Curriculum. A volume in Philosophy of Education. 69. James W. Vice, The Reopening of the American Mind: On Skepticism and Constitutionalism. 70. Sarah Bishop Merrill, Defining Personhood: Toward the Ethics of Quality in Clinical Care. 71. Dane R. Gordon, Philosophy and Vision. 72. Alan Milchman and Alan Rosenberg, Editors, Postmodernism and the Holocaust. A volume in Holocaust and Genocide Studies. 73. Peter A. Redpath, Masquerade of the Dream Walkers: Prophetic Theology from the Cartesians to Hegel. A volume in Studies in the History of Western Philosophy.

74. Malcolm D. Evans, Whitehead and Philosophy of Education: The Seamless Coat of Learning. A volume in Philosophy of Education. 75. Warren E. Steinkraus, Taking Religious Claims Seriously: A Philosophy of Religion, edited by Michael H. Mitias. A volume in Universal Justice.

Taking Religious Claims Seriously. (Value Inquiry Book)

Taking South Park Seriously

Taking Rights Seriously

Taking Humour Seriously

Taking Laughter Seriously

Taking Faith Seriously

Postethnophilosophy. (Value Inquiry Book Series)

Taking Economics Seriously

Plato's Cratylus: Argument, Form, and Structure (Value Inquiry Book Series 168) (Value Inquiry Book) (Value Inquiry Book)

Taking Religious Pluralism Seriously: Spiritual Politics on America's Sacred Ground

Taking Religious Pluralism Seriously: Spiritual Politics on America's Sacred Ground

Practising Culture (Taking Culture Seriously)

Beyond Criminology: Taking Harm Seriously

Beyond Conceptual Dualism (Value Inquiry Book)

Problems for Democracy (Value Inquiry Book)

Feminist Alliances (Value Inquiry Book Series 175)

Environmental Ethics: Intercultural Perspectives. (Value Inquiry Book)

Understanding Moral Weakness (Value Inquiry Book Series)

Embryology, Epigenesis and Evolution: Taking Development Seriously

Taking Economics Seriously (Boston Review Books)

Taking Ourselves Seriously and Getting It Right

Taking Religion Seriously Across the Curriculum

Education for a Democratic Society: Central European Pragmatist Forum. Volume Three (Value Inquiry Book Series 179) (Value Inquiry Book)

Pragmatism: An Annotated Bibliography, 1898-1940 (Value Inquiry Book)

Inwardness and Morality (Value Inquiry Book Series 170)

History of Italian Philosophy (Value Inquiry Book Series Vol. 191)

Ethics in Biomedical Research: International Perspectives. (Value Inquiry Book)

The Expectations of Morality (Value Inquiry Book Series, 158)

Bioethics and Social Reality (Value Inquiry Book Series, 165)

Taking Religious Claims Seriously. (Value Inquiry Book)

Taking South Park Seriously

Taking Rights Seriously

Taking Humour Seriously

Taking Laughter Seriously

Taking Faith Seriously

Postethnophilosophy. (Value Inquiry Book Series)

Taking Economics Seriously

Plato's Cratylus: Argument, Form, and Structure (Value Inquiry Book Series 168) (Value Inquiry Book) (Value Inquiry Book)

Taking Religious Pluralism Seriously: Spiritual Politics on America's Sacred Ground

Taking Religious Pluralism Seriously: Spiritual Politics on America's Sacred Ground

Practising Culture (Taking Culture Seriously)

Beyond Criminology: Taking Harm Seriously

Beyond Conceptual Dualism (Value Inquiry Book)

Problems for Democracy (Value Inquiry Book)

Feminist Alliances (Value Inquiry Book Series 175)

Environmental Ethics: Intercultural Perspectives. (Value Inquiry Book)

Understanding Moral Weakness (Value Inquiry Book Series)

Embryology, Epigenesis and Evolution: Taking Development Seriously

Taking Economics Seriously (Boston Review Books)

Taking Ourselves Seriously and Getting It Right

Taking Religion Seriously Across the Curriculum

Education for a Democratic Society: Central European Pragmatist Forum. Volume Three (Value Inquiry Book Series 179) (Value Inquiry Book)

Pragmatism: An Annotated Bibliography, 1898-1940 (Value Inquiry Book)

Inwardness and Morality (Value Inquiry Book Series 170)

History of Italian Philosophy (Value Inquiry Book Series Vol. 191)

Ethics in Biomedical Research: International Perspectives. (Value Inquiry Book)

The Expectations of Morality (Value Inquiry Book Series, 158)

Bioethics and Social Reality (Value Inquiry Book Series, 165)

Recommend Documents