The Urgent Need to Evolve Our Understanding of Religion

The popular understanding of religion needs to evolve. The commonly accepted definition doesn’t consider how we have come to understand ourselves and our cosmos. The current understanding of religion contextualizes and restricts it to supernatural cosmology, prohibiting a more comprehensive and scientific knowledge of the subject.

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Even among scholars, there is little agreement on the definition or scope of religion. I define it as a universal human social behavior through which people work together to sacralize the values and symbols they hold in common. Religion is the principal means by which human communities and cultures collectively make sense of their lives and inculcate, build, maintain, and share meaning.

I define religion as a socially shared spirituality. Spirituality is a personal, socially constructed, cognitive, and emotional response to the existential question, “What is my life's purpose?” This question is a consequence of our being self-conscious. Genetics, familial and cultural environment, personal experience, education, and a variety of other factors influence how we respond to the question. Our spirituality describes how we make sense of the ongoing experience of being alive in the world as we perceive it. Religion is done in the same way but with much greater power because it employs a network of the collective knowledge, experience, and thinking of an entire community over time.

Religious activity began with the emergence of human self-consciousness, closely associated with language and human cultural development.  As it still does, religion reflects how humans seek to understand the world around us and our relationship to it. At first, our understanding was minimal. We had only simple language, no writing to record what we learned, and little in the way of collective information to help us understand our experience. Our reactions to what we experienced were more emotional than cognitive. At that point, it was natural for us to perceive everything that happened as magical because the origin of everything was unknown to us, and we had only a developing understanding of causality.

A primary characteristic of religion is its ability to provide human life with meaning. This is particularly clear in the case of our early human ancestors, who lived in an unpredictable and often dangerous environment. They sought control over the mysterious forces to which they were subject everywhere and at all times. Instinctively, they recognized the importance of maintaining close social bonds with their immediate and extended family because dealing with life as a group was much more effective than trying to do it on one's own.

It’s understandable that when these early people tried to comprehend what was happening around them, they attributed the cause of their experience to powerful, magical others like themselves that they could not see. They sought communication with these others to influence them and mitigate their actions. These attempts to communicate through sounds and gestures became rituals. The use of ritual produced a sense of the sacred.  Some clan members became recognized for their seeming skill in dealing with these powerful others, and they, too, gained a sacred aura. Each clan developed its own religious beliefs, the rituals that expressed them, and the leaders who interpreted them through rituals, visions, and the telling of sacred narratives.

For our earliest ancestors, the world of things seen and unseen was one. The visible and the invisible were intertwined with and cognitively inseparable from each other. The dual worlds of the physical and the spiritual, natural and supernatural, did not yet exist in the human mind.

Religious behavior gave these early people meaning, collective identity, and a reason for being. Meaning encouraged the development of language and social connection.

In evolutionary terms, religion provided the framework for cultures to creatively process and incorporate information about the world while maintaining social cohesion and emotional security. While there were tremendous and often conflicting differences between cultures regarding how they conceptualized themselves and the world around them, they were subject to the same evolutionary processes. They also shared belief in the supernatural and magical nature of reality, however they may have conceptualized it. Humans lived in a magical world of gods, and there were at least as many of them as those who believed in them.

In the West, this basic structure held solid until the 6th century BCE, when thinkers in Greece caused a tiny crack to appear in the foundation of reality. These thinkers, represented by Thales of Miletus, contested the widely held belief that the divine gods reveal all truth to us. They dared to claim the human power of investigative rationality to test the truths of and about the gods. This little crack grew slowly and steadily as rational thinking methods evolved in various cultures.

About 1000 CE, the great Islamic thinker Ibn al-Haytham developed what many view as the earliest form of the modern scientific method. Some 500 years later, during that period we call the Enlightenment, the irrationality and lack of empirical evidence for supernatural cosmology became too apparent for many scholars to ignore. They began to assemble a new and increasingly rational understanding of the cosmos. Over the centuries, these two learning methods have separated into incompatible and separate cosmologies, although it is common for people to mingle them unconsciously and irrationally.

Historically, to be religious is to be someone who has bound themselves to something meaningful through vocational vows of commitment. A meaning can be supernatural for some people and completely natural for others. Today, the idea of truth sourced in powers and stories from beyond nature is dissonant with the scientific cosmological reality that human reasoning and scientific investigation have revealed.  Although many people still find much comfort in believing in supernatural powers, ancient stories, and traditions, those who embrace the cosmology of modern science find it increasingly difficult to make meaning of them.

We theologians have a large body of knowledge and experience with meaning. Theology deals with how human beings teach, share, and maintain the sense of human life, community, and culture essential for survival. Unfortunately, because we theologians have been reluctant to deal with the difference between meaning itself and the symbols and myths that contain and convey it, we have remained trapped in the prescientific cosmology of the supernatural. The result is that theologians are being excluded from much of the scholarly, intellectual, and scientific discourse that is rationally working to understand who and what we are and the nature of the cosmos in which we find ourselves.

Theology is valid and vital to the ongoing search for the truth about ourselves, our understanding of our cosmos, and the meaning we draw from them. However, to be a part of that conversation, theologians need to extend the definition of religion to be understood as a culturally universal behavior not confined to supernatural beliefs. We need to understand religion as being concerned with meaning rather than gods. This can be supernatural for some people and completely natural for others.  Theologians must acknowledge that God is a product of our vital search for transcendent meaning and is open to critical thought and evaluation.  We must rise to a perspective transcendent of the gods we have created and served. We must free ourselves from irrational supernatural thinking and re-conceptualize ourselves as grounded in an evolving scientific cosmology. Furthermore, we must take on the daunting task of re-mythologizing our knowledge. We must develop rich new symbols, narratives, and liturgies to facilitate the collective work of making durable meaning in systematic harmony with the contemporary scientific worldview.

WHP

Looking For a Maine Coon Cat Named Bert

Where are YOU, Bert? I know where I buried your body in the earth, wrapped in an Opthēan vestment, a few hours after your death around 4:30 a.m., on Wednesday, January 5th, 2022. But YOU were no longer in that body, and it is YOU I so profoundly love and miss. 

I yearn for your on-your-own-terms, affectionate, alert, sherbet-orange-and-cream, constant presence.

We first met after a veterinarian friend called to say she had treated a young male Maine Coon who had been injured while taking food from a Doberman Pinzer. She wanted to find the right home for this assertive cat and considered us a perfect match. I met her in the kennel area of the P.V. pet clinic, where she pointed you out. You were calmly grooming your barely mature, burly, bobcat-like self while establishing your dominion over the clinic from your position atop the dog cages. You looked so regal in your serene indifference to the raucous displays of canine indignity swirling inches beneath you. I instantly bonded with you and your confidant panache.

For two decades afterward, you constantly awed me by engaging life with inspiring curiosity, drive, and courage. Even total blindness during the latter half of your life caused by ocular melanoma did not diminish your character, vitality, or bold bearing. After they removed your wizardly golden eyes, you developed a mysterious way of seeing that gave you the vision of a Tiresias.

Every day, I celebrate the love and comfort we gave each other as we shared our lives during our all-too-brief twenty years together.

I long ago began expecting you to always be somewhere nearby, monitoring Kyle and me from some cat-tactical vantage point—our trusted, vigilant, and occasionally napping guardian.

You are here with me now because I keep you and your character alive in my heart, mind, and imagination. Your being and existence go on with and within me. I made it my sacred responsibility to keep YOU present in this world, and I will honor that vow until the last moment of my life.

If the magical thinkers are correct, and consciousness continues after death, look for me, Bertie. I will be looking for you, and we will find each other. But based on science, experience, and critical thinking, I believe that all life is conditional and temporary, subject to the laws of physics. When my inevitable death comes, I intend to honor you by stepping with determination into the mystery of the entropic void into which YOU disappeared like a bonfire spark soaring with orange brilliance high into the night sky—to vanish in the vast starry blackness. I drew strength from your example of of living with energy and persistence, and I will strive to engage death as courageously, nobly, and receptively as YOU did.

For now, I take comfort in the anamnesis of the softness of your face and chin; your chest and warm, round belly; the moist coolness of your nose; the resonant rumble of your purr; and the restrained power of your great paws, ever so softly gliding over my hands and face as if you were reading braille.

For as long as I have consciousness, I will love and honor you and your Maine Coon ways with the whole of my being. I will maintain the hope that somewhere, somehow, beyond memories and dreams, I will once again hear your Murrreep, delight at the sight of YOU trotting toward me, and again know the joy of scooping you up, holding you close and sharing a tender Eskimo kiss with YOU

Should this hope go unfulfilled—should I never again get to see or touch YOU—I question if I will ever re-experience the astonishing, crackling, static-electric connection with the squirming-to-get-free wonder and mystery of life itself, as I so often did with YOU.

Wherever you have gone in spacetime, Buddy, I like to imagine YOU have finally found that perfect place, where you are basking in the sunny radiance of a nearby star, free from pain, hunger, and thirst, vigilantly guarding the cosmos, and catching an occasional nap in endless comfort, security, and peace.

But my deepest desire is that you somehow know how much I love and miss you, and, that as long as I have will and agency, I will never, ever stop looking for you

I love YOU Bertie — forever… however long that may be.

A Biology Teacher Ponders Death

On April 14, 2016, my friend Tony Krzysik suddenly died. Tony was a scientist and one of those larger-than-life characters who had a range of interests as broad as the river of life itself. He was a retired professor who had taught college chemistry, biology, and physics, among other things (his Ph.D. was in Bio-Ecology). Tony was a gourmet cook, lover of reptiles, fly fisherman, Audubon naturalist, car nut, Steelers fan, and something of a Mr. Rogers to the kids who found their way to the Highlands Center for Natural History in Prescott, Arizona. He could, and did, do everything.

My friendship with Tony was based upon our shared interest in trying to raise awareness about the destructive effects of human activity on the global environment. We shared the opinion that the collapse of those systems which support much of life on this planet is imminent if we do not make rapid and radical changes in human life and culture now.

Shortly after his death and subsequent cremation, on April 24, 2016, a formal Celebration of Life for Tony took place in the amphitheater of the Highlands Center.

The following is a reflection shared at the Celebration by Thomas Atkins, who knew Tony professionally and personally for many years. Tom describes himself as a "retired bio teacher." He might be a descriptive minimalist.

Tom's reflection deeply moved me because it managed to say something central to my theology. I believe it demonstrates better than anything I have found, that factual and scientific narrative can be as much the basis for profound meaning as the most celebrated myths or stories of supernatural powers and heroes. It is the surprising product of the chemistry of combining truth with love.

I share Tom's words here in honor of the extraordinary life of Anthony J. Krzysik and in the hope that you will experience something profoundly revealing in this bio teacher's courageously honest reflection:


I had to ponder this as a biologist…  What exactly HAPPENED to my friend Tony?

Biologically, what is the end of life?

TO UNDERSTAND DEATH, ONE HAS TO UNDERSTAND LIFE!

Life is funded by utilizing food to produce trillions upon trillions of protonsnaked hydrogen nuclei… each second!

These protons are produced… dammed up… and pass through an enzyme called ATP synthase.
They are tiny Nano motors which reconstruct ATP... Adenosine tri phosphate!

Thousands of ATP synthase molecules are found SPINNING AT 7000 RPM IN EVERY LIVING CELL WITHIN OUR BODIES.  


Tony’s marvelous Nano motors, living within his 60 trillion cells, worked tirelessly for 73 years +9 months.  

They made their final production delivery of ATP molecules shortly after his fall to the living room floor.

Without oxygen, these Nano motors slowthen come to a stop.

ATP, the energy molecule of the cell, can no longer be constructed.

The complex biochemical reactions in each cell that depend on ATP slowly ebb and cease as the last remaining stores of this ubiquitous molecule of cellular respiration are deconstructed for the last time…

∆H=Ø

BIOLOGICAL LIFE, THE CONSTANT BATTLE AGAINST RANDOMNESS, AGAINST ENTROPY, is finally at an end in our Tony, our dear friend.

It is not the end of his memes.

People we most love, do literally, become a physical part of us.  They are integrated within our brain structure, in the pathways where memories are created and stored!  

His intellectual essence lives in us all; it lives on in the minds of people that have had contact with this man’s remarkable intelligence.  

His memes live on in papers written late at night.  

They reside in scientific journals.  

They reside in the Internet’s electronic cloud.  

All these have changed the future in ways yet unknown.

 

It is not the end of his matter.  

The Earth Mother, warmed and powered by the sun, is infinitely patient.  But always in the end… FOR ALL OF US… this mother of our matter quietly and gently re-collects her elements.  

Tony’s matter, his stardust, IN THIS LAST WEEK, has already lifted into the sky!

Upon their RELEASE… these tiny elements… these molecules… were IMMEDIATELY swept away by the wind and PHOTOSYNTHESIZED INTO THE BODIES of the mother’s PLANT LIFE!  

It is Tony’s GATEWAY into the GREAT CYCLE!

Tony’s stardust currently… literally… is residing in THE MOTHER'S FAVORITE PLACES … her vast oceans… her great forests… her grasslands… her endless deserts!  
 

They also reside in TONY'S FAVORITE PLACE, a quiet pond filled with waiting trout. 
 

The Earth mother needs Tony’s universal Stardust for HER body for HER SOMA to use againand again… and again… and again… and again…  …and again……


Thank you Tony for having become an important part of my environment and my brain.  I miss you!

Tom

I Believe in Magic (In a Way)

Expanding the scope and meaning of theology is a personal and professional goal.

Thanks to Urban T. Holmes, III, my seminary mentor, I have always preferred an experiential and existential approach to theology over a classical and dogmatic one. The former starts with human questions, while the latter starts with divine answers.

Theology has always been concerned with supernatural beings. This makes sense since our species developed self-awareness and wondered about our origin, location, and destiny. We also needed protection from nature's unknown and frightening forces. We believed that spiritual beings that resembled us but were more powerful were in charge of everything. Different cultures gave these entities different forms, but their existence was taken for granted. Theology started when some people tried to understand and speak on their behalf. They could be considered the first clergy. But they could also be seen as the first magicians in an entirely magical world. Theology originated as the study of magic.

The word magic has many meanings and interpretations. It can evoke a sense of wonder, such as when witnessing a first kiss. It can imply a mysterious phenomenon that defies logical explanation. It can be a simple trick entertaining children, like your Uncle Joe's quarter act, or a spectacular show that dazzles millions, like David Copperfield's illusions. When I think of magic, I think of two of my favorite theologians, Penn and Teller.

I admire them greatly. I also regard them as theologians. As I mentioned, theology originated from the study of magic. I believe it remains so despite the scientific and scholarly advancements it has gained over the thousands of years since its inception. People still pursue it and offer it to others. The only difference is that we now understand its mechanisms.

Penn and Teller are masters of their craft. They have earned a fortune by satisfying our desire for a moment when logic and reality are defied, and the impossible happens. We long for that rare moment when we can escape from our lives' consequences, responsibilities, and limitations and see our dreams come true regardless of our flaws and limitations.

The word "illusions" is what magicians use to describe their tricks. Like David Copperfield, who performs his magic and lets you wonder how he did it, most leave room for doubt. You see it happen, but you know it can't be real. They tease your appetite for the impossible but never satisfy it.

Penn and Teller are different from other magicians. They perform some of the most intricate illusions possible, but they always explain how they did it. They acknowledge that magic exists but is a product of the human mind and perception, not a property of the universe. They want you to enjoy the beauty of the illusion, but they also want you to appreciate the self-awareness that comes with understanding how it works. They are theologians, in the best sense of the word.

We create and need illusions such as poetry, art, music, love, justice, and freedom. They are magical things that we make happen.

To ensure our survival on this planet, we need to be accountable for our religions, whether they are patriotism, nationalism, capitalism, militarism, football, Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, or any other. They are not supernatural. They do not originate from the gods. They (and the gods we revere) are our inventions—illusions we have created. They are our mirrors.

It is time for us to accept this reality and purposefully create illusions that will inspire us to achieve the best possible conditions for all living beings and the planet itself.

We have to mature quickly and get to work designing these masterful illusions now if history is to continue.

If we succeed, it will be the most fantastic illusion of all time. But if we fail, we will vanish like a playing card dropped into an illusionist’s top hat.

Everything matters.

WHP

 

Just Say'n...

I have been interacting with groups that advocate a rational and naturalistic perspective. Through this experience, I have noticed how the words we choose to communicate can reflect our understanding of reality.

My thinking is scientific. This means I believe that the only reliable way to know about our cosmos is through the information we get from our senses. Additionally, other people must systematically verify and analyze this information to remove personal bias.

I reject the idea of a supernatural dimension in our cosmos because no empirical evidence supports it. Likewise, I dismiss astrology, reincarnation, ghosts, magic, miracles, consciousness beyond death, or anything similar. I do not believe in a God or a mysterious designer behind the universe because the proven process of life's evolution contradicts the involvement of a designer.

I don't object to these popular beliefs based on personal feelings; I used to share them, too. But I find no observable proof in the universe to back them up. I would gladly accept any evidence of the supernatural and admit my mistake.

Because I think this way, and after reading the Humanist Manifesto, I have chosen to associate with the American Humanist Association. I find myself very comfortable with them. However, to my surprise, some of them are uncomfortable with me.

The problem is atheism.

The third paragraph of this article expresses what many people would consider the essence of atheism. However, as a theologian, I reject the label of atheist. It would be as absurd as a geologist dismissing the reality of rocks or a biologist denying the existence of life.

I acknowledge that Theos has historically been synonymous with God. We are beings who are aware of our existence. This makes us psychologically troubled by the question of our purpose—the reason for our being. This is a vital question that we cannot flourish without an answer to. Theos is whatever answer we discover to satisfy that question.

Our ancestors invented gods in the early stages of our cultural evolution to explain the nature, causes, and purpose of things. It was a sensible idea based on their limited knowledge of themselves and the universe then and for a long time afterward.

A long history of thinking that Theos is a supernatural entity of some kind does not oblige us to keep that understanding.

The human mind has created the supernatural and its various entities to answer the existential question. We needed the gods for Theos or the purpose and meaning that sustain our existence. However, as we learn more about the cosmos and ourselves, we leave behind the gods and magical thinking. Yet, Theos is still a vital human need. We must meet that need with our best intellectual, emotional, and creative abilities. Our well-being depends on how well we do it.

I reject the existence of God, any supernatural dimensions, or beings that dwell in them.

As a scientific theologian, I embrace the scientific view of the cosmos. I also have a rational, emotional, and theistic worldview. These positions are not contradictory.

Being opposed to something rather than supporting something is not a very good way to find one's purpose in life. But if someone feels such a posture is necessary, I beg them to find something besides “theist” to be “A”

WHP