I find a great deal of value in not only treating religion as an object of study, but also engaging individuals from religious communities on a personal level. Most of my intimate and profound friendships are with members of the clergy from various communities, which at first I thought was weird but as time went on I came to understand those relationships make just as much sense as the other close relationships I’ve made with people within the academic world of philosophy or the men I spent so much time with in the military.
For example, one of the closest friends I have is a Christian pastor who belongs to the Reformed Baptist tradition. This is a very conservetive community (socially, theologically, and politically) that could properly be spoken of as “fundamentalist” in the historical sense of the term. The relationship we’ve fostered has become important to me, because it has really driven home the fact that this Pastor and I can offer things to each other despite our deep differences on just about every subject. Turns out being in a full time ministry with pulpit duties is a very lonely affair, not leaving much room for people to express feelings of personal inadequacy or blow off some steam with a rant; one has to be very careful with their words and behavior in a church/ministry context.
Knowing that this guy feels comfortable enough with me to complain about incidents and controversies in his own religious community to me (in effect, showing me the ugly side) has been something of an honor. He knows that what he says to me is confidential, but also that I won’t try to exploit anything he tells me as a way to try and convince him to leave the faith. The guy can just sit across from me and spill his guts about his real doubts concerning what the 1689 London Baptist Confession says on the infallibility of scripture knowing that I’m present and listening carefully, with no concern about where I might try to take the conversation. There are no points to score, no argument to win, and no culture war to wage. Just two guys, similar in age and interests, trying to cope with living in the world.
This also gives me a valuable and instructive glimpse into the world of Christianity as an actual mode of being; a way of interfacing with the world that goes beyond the cheap sentimentality of a Pureflix movie or listening to a clunky sermon from a John Piper type. It is one thing to argue about a Calvinist soteriology on the internet and quite another thing listening to a guy who affirms it talk about planning a funeral for a dead infant. When you are presiding over a service where the casket isn’t much bigger than a shoe box, theology takes on another dimension of meaning. It has absolutely nothing to do with trying to provide comfort with quaint aphorisms or even involves much use of the analytic intellect or one’s store of theological knowledge. It is hard to describe in a messageboard post, but it is like seeing something meaningful from another culture that jars you because it is different while at the same time touches you. He took this couple who lost their first child before it was 3 months old under his spiritual care and in six months he looked like he aged six years. I can’t turn that into a data point for Christianity or against Christianity, it was just something I experienced that transcends the “atheist vs theist” debates I love reading and occasionally participating in. The fact that my friend gave so much of himself to these people he had just met because of his calling to live a Christian life was moving to me.
In fact, this is part of the reason why you won’t see me participate in discussions on the problem of evil and theodicy anymore. I just feel like I’m being wildly disrespectful using suffering, pain, and misery to make a metaphysical point. There is just something petty about it to me and I can’t bring myself to participate anymore. I’m not entirely sure why.
I think some of it has to do with my past in the military. One of the most horrific things I’ve ever smelled was when a bulldozer began to uncover a mass grave of Shia Iraqis that had been slaughtered by Sunni terrorists who were trying to scare Shia militias into abandoning their posts. The most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard was listening to Pashtun Sufis sing while they worked themselves up in worship, not far from Asadabad, just up the Kunar river where it was fed water from the melting snow of the Hindu Kush mountains. I didn’t understand a word of what those men were singing, but I felt it. Both experiences have always been strongly connected to religion in my mind and probably always will be.
Listening to a body of Jewish people stand and quietly weep during an emotional recitation of the Aramaic Kaddish after a synagogue shooting is another experience I’ve had that I consider profound that is also deeply connected to religion. Still I’ve never seriously considered converting to Judaism, just like I’ve never seriously considered converting to Islam or Christainity. It seems my atheism persists alongside my encounters with religion and religious communities and it seems to do so comfortably.
I can’t really connect with the OP because of it. To me questioning the value of religion is like questioning the value of music or architecture. It is an expression of humanity, fundamental to us while being created by us. The Flux article was difficult to finish and if I’m being frank, made me cringe. When the author starts talking about the work of Joseph Campbell and how he and his friends started making applications of it to their lives was embarrassing:
Jeffery Howard wrote:We dissected Campbell’s work and practiced using the 12-stage outline or 17-stage outline of the Hero’s Journey to map our current struggles. His monomyth identified dynamic guideposts by which we could navigate existential challenges. Through the medium of storytelling we discerned our own missteps, moments where fear prevented us from taking the proper path, and ultimately, created stories that resonated on a deeply spiritual level.
It wasn’t embarrassing in the sense that they were doing something comically wrong or were being clueless. It was the same kind of embarrassment I feel when I see grown men buying, selling, and trading Pokemon cards. Like encountering a soft version of Peter Pan Syndrome. Framing your life in terms of the “Hero’s Journey” and having that resonate with you is probably the most Mormon thing this dude could be doing outside of Live Action Roleplaying a Danite or something. That is exactly the kind of shallow navel gazing that goes on every Sunday during those three hours of meetings, except it is done over food and alcohol.
Picture unrelated?
