Tuesday, August 26, 2008

The Lost Rewards of the Spiritual Life

...is the title of an excellent piece in the June/July edition of Free Inquiry by Julian Baggini. It suggests that there are things you lose when you move from a religious to a secular world view - yes, lose. It really struck home with me - I thought it would be a good idea to set down here what I think I've lost, and gained, since leaving (losing suggests something unintentional - of course the biggest change in my life was anything but) my religion.

Firstly, I'd like to make a point that I've made before - you can't lose something you never had, so I don't think I've lost everlasting life (obviously ;-) - but the hope was a real thing in itself, and I do feel I've lost something important, however untrue. I don't think anything can take it's place (what could?) There are real losses though, apart from these ethereal types.

The first point made by the article is that a sense of gratitude comes more easily to a religious person - religion makes thankfulness a matter of ritual, for example in prayer. This is true - I do miss the prayer before meals, I am thankful for the things I am about to receive etc. etc., and it seems like I have no one to thank any more on that sort of level. Is the secular John a less thankful one? I hope not, but maybe I am. Bart Ehrman made a point in his recent book, though, which is an excellent counter and helps keep the right perspective here. You know when there's an air crash, and you get some person interviewed thanking God (or Jesus) for their survival, doesn't it make you think, what's so special about you that God spared you but not (for example) the child a few rows in front of you? Well, when you're 'saying grace' you're in effect thanking God for favouring you with food, whilst withholding food from millions of others, children included. What's so special about you? Truly we are fortunate if we have food to eat, and should be thankful for our fortune, but to direct that thankfulness towards the heavens is misguided. On the other hand, it is good to be thankful for (and where possible, to) all the people that worked hard to put that food on the table - the feeling of thankfulness should be cultivated - the person who sees no giving (or empty) hand in the sky just has to work harder at this, that's all. I like something Dan Dennett said - he didn't thank God for his recovery from a serious physical affliction , but he did thank goodness - he was thankful to those who had the goodness to save his life.

A second loss to the secular man highlighted by the article is a sense of transcendence - described therein as 'rising above the present moment, going beyond the here and now in some way'. Is a physical man stuck in the physical, material world, barred access to all the feelings that are the staple of 'believers', who feel the holy spirit, the peace that comes from God, move them; who feel awe and reverence towards their Creator, with whom they have a channel of communication available to use at any time? I think this sort of 'spiritual' experience is not as common to the non-religious person, which is a shame. It's hard to conjure up the same depth of feeling. I had some real religious experiences which I will always remember, things that were as real as they felt at the time, of course fully explainable by the chemicals that make me what I am. The fact that I was evolutionarily and culturally disposed to such experiential beliefs doesn't add to or take away any value from them, and in fact viewed from one viewpoint (are they true?) they are valueless - but from another viewpoint (do they make me feel good?), read priceless for valueless. For example, the sunset is as beautiful even if there is no artist behind it but can it conjure up that same depth of feeling in me as it can in one who does see God's hand there?

An obvious loss is the community of family and friends, one which the non-believer can no longer see eye to eye with (for myself, often literally speaking). This is the most profound and saddest loss, but the flip side to this loss is something that I see, strangely enough, as the biggest gain of a secular life: the non-believer may have lost some friends, but he has 'gained the world'. The world is not the big bad place it was portrayed to be to me and people are...well, people. In or out of a religious club. I just wish with all my heart that the religious person could see the positive advantage of having no religion - as the English or Scot (or American, or whatever) may one day contemplate the advantage of giving up their nationality to become a citizen of the world (or the universe), in that distant future time when maps of the world truly reflect the view of the world from space, (can you hear the trumpets playing yet ? ;-) when people become friends - not because of where they live or what they believe (the same thing usually), but because of who they are.

A final point raised in the article is that the sense of 'higher aspiration' is missing from a humanistic world view, that the secular mind is always tempted to say 'why bother?' given our evolutionary origins and there being no afterlife, etc. etc. Well, I agree to a point. I have had that feeling of a 'higher calling' myself, and I have never been as motivated as I was when engaged in a missionary work that had the actual purpose of saving people from everlasting destruction - offering them instead everlasting life! In the face of that, everything else was like so much refuse (or rubbish, as we in England say), to quote the apostle. Here's he rub though: it turns out that that was the refuse, and everything else was the good stuff, so to speak! I didn't go to University when I left school, never voted, never tried to better myself or get a good job (polishing the brass on the Titanic, as it was once put to me). So in effect yes, I had higher aspirations than I do now, but pardon me, they were bullshit! I have lower ones now, but they are meaningful and true. What small good I can do for my community is better than the null, or even negative, effect I had on it previously, even despite (it is true) the existential ennui, the mental tinnitus caused by that approaching day which will end all my days. I comfort myself by thinking that it has always been thus, that that approaching day was always as final, no matter what else I may have believed about it.

So to sum up. If I have lost some things, of course I think I have gained more. I would not trade the truth I have (and live) for the lies of religion, for the comfort and camaraderie of the opium den. To throw another metaphor into the mix: I may have come up on deck in the middle of the storm, out of the sheltered hold of the ship, and have all the forces of nature to endure, yet in truth our fates are the same, whether we stand above decks or below. I see the world as it really is, in all it's terrifying grandeur, as I look (to paraphrase Dawkins) straight ahead into nature's biting wind and (try to) smile. Still, to finish on a quote from the article mentioned,

'I've always thought of atheism as the most mature of world views, because it refuses false consolation. However, in practice, many secular humanists offer themselves the false consolation that there is nothing in religion that they are not better off without and that all the supposed benefits of a religious life are all direct consequences of false beliefs. That is not true, and we should not comfort ourselves with the mistaken conviction that it is'.

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