Religion and Its Extremes: An Essay
This was written in late February of this year for a campus-wide essay contest in which I placed second last year. This essay, though I entered, I discovered was never included in the selection process. Presumably, this is because I had placed in the past; however, there was no explicit rule against applying again, and they never told me the actual reason why they didn't include it (I only found out because of my unique position in the university at the time, which allowed me access to things not all students could access). Nevertheless, it was lost to the abyss. Not one to let a good essay go to waste, however (given my competition, and how much I'd improved in the last year, I'm quite sure I would've placed first this time), I think it should go here. Also, I haven't updated in a month.
Speaking of which, I'm back on track after spending the last four days writing on Heidegger. Who's next? It's a surprise.
One final note: when I wrote this, I had no idea whether I actually agreed with the ideas I was writing down, or whether I just liked the way it sounded on paper. Thinking about it now, I'm still not quite sure. I have yet to decide exactly what 'religion' means to me with definiteness, and until then, the question of how religion relates to subjects such as violence and extremism must remain unanswered. Nevertheless, I find the things I wrote here interesting, not in direct contradiction with my general outlook, and worthy of development in the future.
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Though the question has arisen in one form or another throughout the centuries, the relationship between religion and tolerance has become a very pressing issue since the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. A group of people, motivated by religious fervor, took their own lives and thousands of others as well. The shock of this event soon gave way to questions. What, people ask, causes other to do such things? As information about the terrorists rose the question appeared: what role did religion play in this event? And what role does it play in similar events elsewhere? For it can be said that the attacks of September 11th are only one extreme case of religious fervor leading to intolerance, repression, and destruction. Repression, we hear, has existed throughout religious history and continues in many forms to this day.
True enough. Yet to inquire as to the “role” of religion in such a manner, looking only at its worst adherents and most destructive events, is not merely one-sided but dishonest. History teaches us better. Christian churches sponsor countless charities, working to help the poor and struggling. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa, and Mahatma Gandhi fought for the rights of human beings under religious banners. Islamic empires and Christian universities were the houses of education throughout the Middle Ages. Religion has saved and improved countless lives, just as it has been linked to repression, killings, and destruction. Thus given anecdotes on both sides of the question, one must try to get to the heart of the matter and ask: what is in religion that leads to aid and repression, tolerance and repression? And how is this power used, for good and for evil? Is one or the other the true face of religion? Or is it something else?
To understand how religion can be used for good and evil, we must first answer a far more difficult question: what is religion? There are several ways of answering this core question, which I will divide into three broadly defined strains. The first I call the doctrinal definition: a religion is a set of codes or laws which prescribes a way of life for a group of people, as well as a belief structure which undergirds the identity of the group (“doctrinal” being a word that can include both rules and beliefs). The second I call the mystical definition: a religion is a means through which one contacts “ultimate reality,” be it a higher plane of existence, a new way of experiencing the world which is, or something similar. The third I call the spiritual definition (with “spiritual” used in its most general sense): a religion is defined by a certain way of living, not in a solely legal (doctrine-based) sense, but as a way of living with: with one’s fellow man, with nature, with all of existence. This third definition is not as legalistic as the doctrinal definition, nor as vague as the mystical definition; it is something of a middle ground, where doctrine and lived experience are necessarily related in lived experience.
Next, let us point out some known religions and examine our definitions with reference to them to see what definition (if any) fits. Familiar religions include Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism (going all the way from Mahayana to Zen), Hinduism, Native American religions, Jainism, and countless tribal religions. What do these religions share that makes them religions? What common characteristic(s) do we find? And to help us narrow our search further, let us ask: which definitions include things that are obviously not religions?
At first the doctrinal definition appears tempting. Each religion distinguishes itself with a certain code by which to define its members. Christians have specific rules which they are to follow through life, as do Muslims, Hindus, etc. Yet I think that the doctrinal definition alone is far from sufficient. Certainly the Zen Buddhist would laugh at the claim that Enlightenment is simply the consequence of following a set of rules, as would a Native American, many Christian groups, and others. Within religions themselves one finds countless different codes: Catholicism, for example, is not Greek Orthodox, is not Mennonite. Further, to call a set of doctrines alone a religion includes purely secular ethical codes as well as religions. Thus, rules alone prove insufficient to make a religion a religion.
Next we turn to the mystical definition. At first, the mystical definition appears to get us close to our goal: religions give us a sense of meaning and higher purpose through which to understand our existence. Religions allow one to understand life as more than just “avoiding death,” and have motivated some of the most inspiring men in history in a way difficult to comprehend if one assumes only a transitory life where all comes to an end. Yet I argue that we can cross this definition out as well. Religions are not necessarily defined by some “other reality.” Again, Zen Buddhism stands out here: the goal in Zen is not to separate oneself from the world, but to become an unobtrusive, purely “natural” part of it. Even religions which do look to another world do not do so in such a vague sense as is given in the mystical definition: Christianity, for example, has its heaven, but it spends just as much of its time thinking about this world as well: how to act, what rules to live by, and how this world relates to that one. Thus this world has a role of importance, no matter how otherworldly an adherent might be. Besides, if reaching “another plane of experience” were the only goal, then surely there would be a unique religion for every new psychotropic drug that came out.
This brings us to the third definition, religion as spiritual living. In a way, the spiritual definition is the combination of the other two. On the mystical side, religion as spiritual living provides one with a special way of looking at the world and one’s place in it, over and beyond “mere existing.” On the doctrinal side, religion as spiritual living provides a structured way of understanding that experience and an ideal way of life with which to align it. Thus spiritual living provides both the deeply felt sense of connection that the mystical side offers and the understood way of living and purposefulness that the doctrinal side offers. The weaknesses of both sides are resolved in the synthesis; the mystical acquires an aim, and the doctrine becomes meaningful. Further, only religions can meet the conditions of the spiritual definition: ethical and legal codes alone are insufficient to instill a sense of connection with the world, and certain hallucinatory substances do not give us any actual direction when it comes to living. Religion, thus, is spiritual living; that is, an understanding of the world, developed by way of doctrines and beliefs, through which the individual comes to feel a deep sense of connection with the world and all within it. Religion is connected, directed living.
Now that we have defined religion (and in two pages, no less!), we must return to our original question: what role does religion play in tolerance and intolerance? What is it in religion that can lead people to acts of both creation and destruction?
Let us first explicitly note that, given the examples we used in the beginning of this essay and the definition of religion we have arrived at, religion itself can be used for both good and evil, and remains religion in both cases. Completely abstracted from particular doctrines, belief systems, and experiences, religion as spiritual living is simply and precisely a spiritually involved, directed way of living in the world. Whether that is used for creative or destructive purposes depends upon what particular doctrines are subscribed to, and what exactly the relation between self and world is. Thus, both Mother Teresa and the September 11th terrorists can be said to have acted “religiously.”
That being said, Mother Teresa (along with Gandhi, Jesus, and others) and the September 11th hijackers (along with other oppressive religious forces) do not understand religion in the same way. The oppressive, destructive forces in religion are distinguishable in that they always focus upon the extreme ends of the doctrinal-mystical spectrum. On one end, radical interpreters of Islam (or any other religion) may say that the laws prescribed in the Qu’ran (or any other holy code) must be followed to the very word, or else one faces damnation. This is not restricted to religions with “holy books:” in this manner cult leaders use their own doctrines to completely control the lives of their victims through the force of “religious” law. Doctrine is no longer connected with the world as experienced; rather, existence itself is subjected to a singular interpretation of law from which all else follows. Religion in this sense becomes slavery.
Paradoxically enough, this is often combined with the opposite extreme, extreme mysticism. Believers are whipped into absolute frenzy at rallies; powerful speakers use the force of speech to elicit powerful emotional response. For the person experiencing them, these extremes of emotion can be indecipherable from genuine religious ecstasy, where one feels a sense of “oneness” with the world or a connection with the divine. Emotionally weak and vulnerable people and those in repressed societies are especially vulnerable to this form of persuasion, and thus form the rank and file of extremist and cult movements. Terrorists rarely grow up in middle-class neighborhoods for a reason.
This literal extremism in religion can be contrasted with the approach of the positive forces in religion, exemplified by many of its most devout practitioners. Martin Luther King, Jr. is a shining example, because he wrote so lucidly on the subject. For Dr. King, the doctrinal aspects of religion are directly connected to the mystical aspects. Rather than one extreme enforcing the other, as in the example of the cult, the two sides co-exist peacefully and constructively, creating a positive worldview that allows one to actively participate in the world in a constructive and fulfilling manner. Dr. King calls the synthesis agape, a Greek word for a type of love which Dr. King describes as “understanding, creative, redemptive, good will to all men.”(1) Thus agape is not merely doctrinal, but neither is it purely emotional, as Dr. King explains in a line both amusing and troubling: “I think this (agape) is what Jesus meant when he said ‘love your enemies.’ I’m very happy that he didn’t say like your enemies, because it is pretty difficult to like some people. Like is sentimental, and it is pretty difficult to like someone bombing your home . . . .”(2) Thus Dr. King’s “brotherhood of all men” is a sense of familyhood with the entire world, one reinforced by the doctrines of religion rather than hindered by it.
In hindsight, we now see that the battle over the “good” or “evil” nature of religion is really a battle over its application to the human life. Those who push the extremes of religious experience and law perpetuate a self-destructive form of religion, one where wars of belief are fought and this world is unflinchingly sacrificed for some greater reward. The continuing existence of such self-destructive religions is a testament to the power extreme emotions and absolute beliefs have over the human soul. The balanced form, on the other hand, has in it the means to create a peaceful and long-lasting path for human life to tread. It works to maintain stability, for its emphasis is on how one coexists within the world rather than against it. As Dr. King understood, religion as the unity of the doctrinal and mystical is brotherhood.
Now that we have come to understand what is in the nature of religion that leads both to balance and to extremism, creation and destruction, tolerance and intolerance, we must ask one final question: how can we create a world where the religious life is one of balance? This question is easily answered, though putting that answer into practice is far from easy. Human beings, by their nature, seek balance. In the extreme forms of religion it is the promise of a permanent peace and a lasting salvation that draws adherents; in cults, it is the promise of a safe and secure life that draws followers. People seek to leave oppression, anarchy, and war, and the extreme forms of religion offer an escape, but in seeking this religion these people unknowingly pursue their own destruction. If we are to establish religion as a force of peace and tolerance, we must take our fight to these people. Bring balance to their lives and they will no longer look for instant solutions and overpowering experiences. Balance seeks balance; thus, balance in the secular world will help to bring balance in the religious world. And as we noted in the very beginning, one of the greatest forces in bringing balance in the secular world has been religion. Likewise, extremism breeds extremism and destruction breeds destruction in a cycle that perpetuates indefinitely until it is stopped. Thus we must take the battle to the hungry and oppressed, those without family or shelter, providing them liberation from the oppression of circumstance. We must fight the forces of extremism with patience and reserve, as Gandhi and Dr. King did. Only through a restorative effort on both sides, the religious and the secular, can religion as spiritual life bring about a world of balance and a brotherhood of mankind.
Footnotes:
(1) Martin Luther King, Jr. “Love, Law, and Civil Disobedience,” in A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James Melvin Washington (Harper & Row), 46.
(2) King, “Love, Law, and Civil Disobedience,” 47.
Speaking of which, I'm back on track after spending the last four days writing on Heidegger. Who's next? It's a surprise.
One final note: when I wrote this, I had no idea whether I actually agreed with the ideas I was writing down, or whether I just liked the way it sounded on paper. Thinking about it now, I'm still not quite sure. I have yet to decide exactly what 'religion' means to me with definiteness, and until then, the question of how religion relates to subjects such as violence and extremism must remain unanswered. Nevertheless, I find the things I wrote here interesting, not in direct contradiction with my general outlook, and worthy of development in the future.
-----
Though the question has arisen in one form or another throughout the centuries, the relationship between religion and tolerance has become a very pressing issue since the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. A group of people, motivated by religious fervor, took their own lives and thousands of others as well. The shock of this event soon gave way to questions. What, people ask, causes other to do such things? As information about the terrorists rose the question appeared: what role did religion play in this event? And what role does it play in similar events elsewhere? For it can be said that the attacks of September 11th are only one extreme case of religious fervor leading to intolerance, repression, and destruction. Repression, we hear, has existed throughout religious history and continues in many forms to this day.
True enough. Yet to inquire as to the “role” of religion in such a manner, looking only at its worst adherents and most destructive events, is not merely one-sided but dishonest. History teaches us better. Christian churches sponsor countless charities, working to help the poor and struggling. Martin Luther King, Jr., Mother Teresa, and Mahatma Gandhi fought for the rights of human beings under religious banners. Islamic empires and Christian universities were the houses of education throughout the Middle Ages. Religion has saved and improved countless lives, just as it has been linked to repression, killings, and destruction. Thus given anecdotes on both sides of the question, one must try to get to the heart of the matter and ask: what is in religion that leads to aid and repression, tolerance and repression? And how is this power used, for good and for evil? Is one or the other the true face of religion? Or is it something else?
To understand how religion can be used for good and evil, we must first answer a far more difficult question: what is religion? There are several ways of answering this core question, which I will divide into three broadly defined strains. The first I call the doctrinal definition: a religion is a set of codes or laws which prescribes a way of life for a group of people, as well as a belief structure which undergirds the identity of the group (“doctrinal” being a word that can include both rules and beliefs). The second I call the mystical definition: a religion is a means through which one contacts “ultimate reality,” be it a higher plane of existence, a new way of experiencing the world which is, or something similar. The third I call the spiritual definition (with “spiritual” used in its most general sense): a religion is defined by a certain way of living, not in a solely legal (doctrine-based) sense, but as a way of living with: with one’s fellow man, with nature, with all of existence. This third definition is not as legalistic as the doctrinal definition, nor as vague as the mystical definition; it is something of a middle ground, where doctrine and lived experience are necessarily related in lived experience.
Next, let us point out some known religions and examine our definitions with reference to them to see what definition (if any) fits. Familiar religions include Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Buddhism (going all the way from Mahayana to Zen), Hinduism, Native American religions, Jainism, and countless tribal religions. What do these religions share that makes them religions? What common characteristic(s) do we find? And to help us narrow our search further, let us ask: which definitions include things that are obviously not religions?
At first the doctrinal definition appears tempting. Each religion distinguishes itself with a certain code by which to define its members. Christians have specific rules which they are to follow through life, as do Muslims, Hindus, etc. Yet I think that the doctrinal definition alone is far from sufficient. Certainly the Zen Buddhist would laugh at the claim that Enlightenment is simply the consequence of following a set of rules, as would a Native American, many Christian groups, and others. Within religions themselves one finds countless different codes: Catholicism, for example, is not Greek Orthodox, is not Mennonite. Further, to call a set of doctrines alone a religion includes purely secular ethical codes as well as religions. Thus, rules alone prove insufficient to make a religion a religion.
Next we turn to the mystical definition. At first, the mystical definition appears to get us close to our goal: religions give us a sense of meaning and higher purpose through which to understand our existence. Religions allow one to understand life as more than just “avoiding death,” and have motivated some of the most inspiring men in history in a way difficult to comprehend if one assumes only a transitory life where all comes to an end. Yet I argue that we can cross this definition out as well. Religions are not necessarily defined by some “other reality.” Again, Zen Buddhism stands out here: the goal in Zen is not to separate oneself from the world, but to become an unobtrusive, purely “natural” part of it. Even religions which do look to another world do not do so in such a vague sense as is given in the mystical definition: Christianity, for example, has its heaven, but it spends just as much of its time thinking about this world as well: how to act, what rules to live by, and how this world relates to that one. Thus this world has a role of importance, no matter how otherworldly an adherent might be. Besides, if reaching “another plane of experience” were the only goal, then surely there would be a unique religion for every new psychotropic drug that came out.
This brings us to the third definition, religion as spiritual living. In a way, the spiritual definition is the combination of the other two. On the mystical side, religion as spiritual living provides one with a special way of looking at the world and one’s place in it, over and beyond “mere existing.” On the doctrinal side, religion as spiritual living provides a structured way of understanding that experience and an ideal way of life with which to align it. Thus spiritual living provides both the deeply felt sense of connection that the mystical side offers and the understood way of living and purposefulness that the doctrinal side offers. The weaknesses of both sides are resolved in the synthesis; the mystical acquires an aim, and the doctrine becomes meaningful. Further, only religions can meet the conditions of the spiritual definition: ethical and legal codes alone are insufficient to instill a sense of connection with the world, and certain hallucinatory substances do not give us any actual direction when it comes to living. Religion, thus, is spiritual living; that is, an understanding of the world, developed by way of doctrines and beliefs, through which the individual comes to feel a deep sense of connection with the world and all within it. Religion is connected, directed living.
Now that we have defined religion (and in two pages, no less!), we must return to our original question: what role does religion play in tolerance and intolerance? What is it in religion that can lead people to acts of both creation and destruction?
Let us first explicitly note that, given the examples we used in the beginning of this essay and the definition of religion we have arrived at, religion itself can be used for both good and evil, and remains religion in both cases. Completely abstracted from particular doctrines, belief systems, and experiences, religion as spiritual living is simply and precisely a spiritually involved, directed way of living in the world. Whether that is used for creative or destructive purposes depends upon what particular doctrines are subscribed to, and what exactly the relation between self and world is. Thus, both Mother Teresa and the September 11th terrorists can be said to have acted “religiously.”
That being said, Mother Teresa (along with Gandhi, Jesus, and others) and the September 11th hijackers (along with other oppressive religious forces) do not understand religion in the same way. The oppressive, destructive forces in religion are distinguishable in that they always focus upon the extreme ends of the doctrinal-mystical spectrum. On one end, radical interpreters of Islam (or any other religion) may say that the laws prescribed in the Qu’ran (or any other holy code) must be followed to the very word, or else one faces damnation. This is not restricted to religions with “holy books:” in this manner cult leaders use their own doctrines to completely control the lives of their victims through the force of “religious” law. Doctrine is no longer connected with the world as experienced; rather, existence itself is subjected to a singular interpretation of law from which all else follows. Religion in this sense becomes slavery.
Paradoxically enough, this is often combined with the opposite extreme, extreme mysticism. Believers are whipped into absolute frenzy at rallies; powerful speakers use the force of speech to elicit powerful emotional response. For the person experiencing them, these extremes of emotion can be indecipherable from genuine religious ecstasy, where one feels a sense of “oneness” with the world or a connection with the divine. Emotionally weak and vulnerable people and those in repressed societies are especially vulnerable to this form of persuasion, and thus form the rank and file of extremist and cult movements. Terrorists rarely grow up in middle-class neighborhoods for a reason.
This literal extremism in religion can be contrasted with the approach of the positive forces in religion, exemplified by many of its most devout practitioners. Martin Luther King, Jr. is a shining example, because he wrote so lucidly on the subject. For Dr. King, the doctrinal aspects of religion are directly connected to the mystical aspects. Rather than one extreme enforcing the other, as in the example of the cult, the two sides co-exist peacefully and constructively, creating a positive worldview that allows one to actively participate in the world in a constructive and fulfilling manner. Dr. King calls the synthesis agape, a Greek word for a type of love which Dr. King describes as “understanding, creative, redemptive, good will to all men.”(1) Thus agape is not merely doctrinal, but neither is it purely emotional, as Dr. King explains in a line both amusing and troubling: “I think this (agape) is what Jesus meant when he said ‘love your enemies.’ I’m very happy that he didn’t say like your enemies, because it is pretty difficult to like some people. Like is sentimental, and it is pretty difficult to like someone bombing your home . . . .”(2) Thus Dr. King’s “brotherhood of all men” is a sense of familyhood with the entire world, one reinforced by the doctrines of religion rather than hindered by it.
In hindsight, we now see that the battle over the “good” or “evil” nature of religion is really a battle over its application to the human life. Those who push the extremes of religious experience and law perpetuate a self-destructive form of religion, one where wars of belief are fought and this world is unflinchingly sacrificed for some greater reward. The continuing existence of such self-destructive religions is a testament to the power extreme emotions and absolute beliefs have over the human soul. The balanced form, on the other hand, has in it the means to create a peaceful and long-lasting path for human life to tread. It works to maintain stability, for its emphasis is on how one coexists within the world rather than against it. As Dr. King understood, religion as the unity of the doctrinal and mystical is brotherhood.
Now that we have come to understand what is in the nature of religion that leads both to balance and to extremism, creation and destruction, tolerance and intolerance, we must ask one final question: how can we create a world where the religious life is one of balance? This question is easily answered, though putting that answer into practice is far from easy. Human beings, by their nature, seek balance. In the extreme forms of religion it is the promise of a permanent peace and a lasting salvation that draws adherents; in cults, it is the promise of a safe and secure life that draws followers. People seek to leave oppression, anarchy, and war, and the extreme forms of religion offer an escape, but in seeking this religion these people unknowingly pursue their own destruction. If we are to establish religion as a force of peace and tolerance, we must take our fight to these people. Bring balance to their lives and they will no longer look for instant solutions and overpowering experiences. Balance seeks balance; thus, balance in the secular world will help to bring balance in the religious world. And as we noted in the very beginning, one of the greatest forces in bringing balance in the secular world has been religion. Likewise, extremism breeds extremism and destruction breeds destruction in a cycle that perpetuates indefinitely until it is stopped. Thus we must take the battle to the hungry and oppressed, those without family or shelter, providing them liberation from the oppression of circumstance. We must fight the forces of extremism with patience and reserve, as Gandhi and Dr. King did. Only through a restorative effort on both sides, the religious and the secular, can religion as spiritual life bring about a world of balance and a brotherhood of mankind.
Footnotes:
(1) Martin Luther King, Jr. “Love, Law, and Civil Disobedience,” in A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings of Martin Luther King, Jr., ed. James Melvin Washington (Harper & Row), 46.
(2) King, “Love, Law, and Civil Disobedience,” 47.
posted by Derek at 7:50 PM
2 Comments:
Very well written. I suspect Scott would like this.
You suspect correctly.
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