Violence-Is Religion the Problem?
Fred Harland --Regina Unitarian Fellowship 5 December, 2004
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times. So begins A tale of Two Cities, Dickens' novel of the French Revolution. But is it not equally true today? Yes, it's the best of times— for some of you, certainly for me. Life here has so much to offer, medicare, the opportunity to come here each week, being able to attend the Seniors' Education Centre, to read or listen to or participate in what we want, to run and play ball, to visit my children, to have the choice in winter whether to stay in this city with so much to offer or to get warm in Mexico, to say what we think about anything…indeed these are the best of times.
And it's also, for many, the worst of times. And it wasn't supposed to be that way. When the Berlin Wall came down in November, 1989, we looked forward to A New World Order of peace, justice and prosperity. Not to the bombing of the World Trade Centre, not to suicide bombings in Israel, not to the continued eviction of Palestinians from their homes in the West Bank or Gaza, not to pre-emptive war fought by the United States on the soil and from the skies of a country that had done it no harm.
And increasingly we hear people asking if these concerns reflect a religious problem, in particular in the three religions of Abraham—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. That is, asking whether there's a violent streak inherent to these three Western monotheistic religions.
In exploring that question, I think I'll start by talking about my childhood. I grew up in a religious home in small-town Manitoba. My Dad was very interested in religion, science, and truth. Indeed, as a liberal United Church minister and inveterate teller of stories, he talked about these and related matters every Sunday from the pulpit.
To Dad, religion was about meaning and it was about people. I remember him speculating, one Sunday, about a shepherd living some thousands of years ago in far-off Palestine, gazing at the starry heavens and wondering what it all could mean. Where are we? Why are we here? What, if anything, are we supposed to do? Who should we do it with? How can we make it work for us? And speculating whether this shepherd sensed unseen forces describing and shaping his life, and whether he called these forces God? And, if so, what kind of God? And what did this God require?
To Spinoza, the Dutch philosopher writing many years later in the 17th Century, how we develop answers to these religious questions seemed clear enough. 'I believe" said Spinoza, "that a triangle, if it could speak, would in like manner say that God is eminently triangular, and a circle that the divine nature is eminently circular; and thus would every one ascribe his own attributes to God. That is, that every god is clothed in the habits and moral codes of his worshipers, and invariably reflects the changes which influence their customs, outlooks, and goals. The god is warlike when his followers are warlike; the god is peaceful when his followers are peaceful. And so the sacred texts and myths and religions that were developed to describe a people's gods, in fact reflected themselves.
I got a sense, early on, that the answers Dad gave to the shepherd's questions were very different to the ones my mother would give. Although as a good minister's wife Mom took her part in the local United Church, playing the organ, joining in the Women's Missionary Society, etc., Mom felt much more at home with her Baptist and Pentecostal friends. With their beliefs, with their attitudes, with their proscriptions for behaviour.
Where Dad's God was a God of Love, Mom's God was to be feared. Where Dad would preach from a biblical text "He who is not against us is for us", Mom felt more at home with the text "He who is not for us is against us". Where Dad would preach about the good Samaritan who befriended people of a different ethnic group, about the importance of turning the other cheek, of forgiving people who hurt you; Mom wanted us to know that hell awaited those who were not saved, that breaking the rules merited punishment, that sparing the rod spoiled the child. In short, Dad's God had a both-and perspective, as did he; Mom's we-they, either-or God separated out the sheep from the goats, the saved from the unsaved, the converted from the heathen. Where Dad wanted evidence for facts, Mom looked to what the Scriptures had to say. Scriptures which, for her, were true, eternal and unchanging. And Mom's view is seemingly shared, not only by President Bush, but also by both the terrorist Al Qaeda network and the Jewish fundamentalists whose avowed intention is to drive the Arab inhabitants out of the Occupied Territories of the West Bank and Gaza.
Here's a humorous email written to President Bush that raises the problems inherent in saying that any laws are eternal and unchanging. Some of you will have seen it, indeed I emailed it to a number of you.
Dear President Bush,
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I have learned a great deal from you and understand why you would propose and support a constitutional amendment banning same sex marriage. As you said "in the eyes of God marriage is based between a man a woman." I try to share that knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind them that Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of debate.
I do need some advice from you, however, regarding some other elements of God's Laws and how to follow them.
1. Leviticus 25:44 states that I may possess slaves, both male and
female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
2. I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in
Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair
price for her?
3. I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanness - Lev.15: 19-24. The problem is how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.
4. When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a
pleasing odour for the Lord - Lev. 1:9. The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?
5. I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself, or should I ask the police to do it?
6. A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an
abomination -- Lev. 11:10 -- it is a lesser abomination than
homosexuality; I don't agree. Can you settle this? Are there
'degrees' of abomination?
7. Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle-room here?
8. Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair
around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by
Lev.19:27. How should they die?
9. I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
10. My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev.19:19 by planting two
different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing
garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? Lev. 24:10-16. Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair, like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws?
(Lev. 20:14)
I know you have studied these things extensively and thus enjoy
considerable expertise in such matters, so I am confident you can help.
Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is eternal and
unchanging.
Yours sincerely….
Some scholars suggest that the difference between my Dad's and my Mom's beliefs are key to understanding religious violence. Listen, for example, to the arguments put forth by Rodney Stark, a sociologist at the University of Washington and by Johan Galtung of the International Peace Research Institute in Oslo. To both of them, central beliefs of Christianity and Islam incline their followers to violence. For example, their identification of their deity as the only one, their consequent contempt for the beliefs of others, the notion of being a chosen people, and their apparent need to overthrow or suppress other Gods. Galtung concludes that, among the major religions, Christianity and Islam have the most dangerous beliefs. That Judaism's beliefs are somewhat less violent, followed by Hinduism and then, with the most peaceful beliefs, Buddhism. He notes that there is a hard either/or, we/they, right/wrong dimension to Western religions, and in particular to Christianity and Islam. Which is in vivid contrast to the softer both/and dimensions of Eastern religions.
And it should not be surprising, then, that the violence of their beliefs should lead the supporters of the monotheistic religions to be violent in their behaviour. As Karen Armstrong, author of the brilliant book, The History of God puts it: "Belligerent righteousness is a constant temptation to monotheist thought throughout the long history of God". This belligerence starts, of course, with the early tribal deity Yahweh who was murderously partial to his own people. Do you remember, for example, the Biblical story about how the prophet Elijah, bested the Baal fertility priests in a god-fire-making contest, then ordered all of the Baal priests be put to death? Do you also recall the beating to death of Hypatia, the female scientist and head of the Alexandria Library in 415 A.D. by Catholic monks; or the slaughtering of thousands of German Jews by Christian Crusaders while on their way to slaughter Muslims in the Holy Land; or the terrible Inquisition; or the St. Bartholomew Day massacre of thousands of Protestants in 1572 in France; or the Puritan witch trials of 1692 in Salem in New England; or Muslim killings over the years of people seen as the infidel; or 9/11. In short, religious killings by supporters of monotheistic religions have gone on and on, from ancient times to the present.
Some of you may have listened to a recent CBC broadcast about the 13th Century massacre of the Cathars. The Cathars were a grass-roots Christian movement in southern France that got in the way of the Pope and his Holy Inquisition. They were led by a pious clergy, both men and women, who abstained from meat, sex, violence and material wealth. Such heresy sparked a savage crusade within Christendom. First, the Cathars had to be scapegoated and demonized. So crusaders were informed from the pulpit that these Cathar heretics engaged in obscenities with cats, had incestuous orgies, ate the ashes of babies, and desecrated the holy cross. Then, the Pope's army marched into the town of Bezier where some Cathars lived. "But what", asked a soldier, "do we do with the many people here who are not Cathars"? Replied the Pope's head of army, "Kill them all, God will know which ones are his own." 20,000 men, women and children were slaughtered. And finally, the Pope's army searched out every last member of the Cathar clergy, burning about 220 people alive.
That, as we say, is history. But the killing goes on. To significant degree due to the rise, since the 1970s, of a type of religiosity that we usually call fundamentalism. This fundamentalism has emerged in most of the world religions, including the three religions of Abraham. It has a highly political spirituality, and is both literal and intolerant in its vision.
With respect to Christianity, and in particular in the US, fundamentalism is attached to the New Right, shows little regard for the loving compassion of Christ, is swift to condemn people it sees as the enemies of God, and identifies the US as God's chosen nation, with the vocation of carrying out God's plan on Earth, of spreading the American way of life.
Just as fundamentalism has thus taken hold in a lot of Christianity, it is firmly implanted in parts of Islam. In recent years, for example, we recall the toppling of the Iranian government by fundamentalist followers of Khomeini, we reacted to the death penalty announced for enemies of Islam such as the author Salmon Rushdie, and we were shocked by the horror of 9/11. Some of you may as well have seen War Without Borders last Wednesday on the Fifth Estate. Which talked about how, on March 11 of this year, bombs ripped apart commuter trains arriving at Madrid's Atocha Station, killing more than 200 and injuring over 1400. That day became known in Spain as 3/11. According to the Fifth Estate program, the link between 3/11 and other terrorist events is the Al-Qaeda goal of seeing the return of the great 13th Century Muslim Empire. At its peak, in the 1200s, that Muslim empire stretched from Spain and Morocco, across North Africa, the Middle East, down the West coast of Africa, to India and the Philippines. An empire at the center of the world's science and art, at a time when Europe was wallowing in the Dark Ages. And that is the al Qaeda dream. A new Muslim empire, a fascistic theocracy, ruled by Sharia law. Brought about by terror.
And if fundamentalism has plagued both Christianity and Islam, that is also true of Judaism. To many people Islamic terrorism cannot be reduced until the Palestine issue is resolved. Such a resolution, however, is made enormously problematic by Jewish fundamentalists. Who settled in the Occupied Territories of the West Bank and Gaza with the avowed intention of driving out the Arab inhabitants. As the extremist Rabbi Kahane put it "the message is to do what God wants… to go to War…to create a Jewish state." In other words it's their Jewish God who requires Israelis to abrogate the human rights of Palestinians.
Let me reiterate my talk of this morning. I started by pointing out that events of our recent past and present make many people ask about the link between religion and violence. I suggested, by talking of Dad's Palestinian shepherd, that there are two deep patterns in the human psyche—one, a both-and perspective, that fosters compassion and the welcoming of difference; the other, a we-they, either-or perspective that fosters violence.
I suggested that both of these patterns are embedded, not only in our psyches, but also in the gods we create, the scriptures we write, the religious and civil institutions we develop, our histories, our political and military behaviour, and the lives that we lead. Although the devotees of monotheistic religions tend to be particularly prone to we-they, violent thinking, and Eastern religions, particularly Buddhism, tend to foster both-and, yin-yang, acceptance of other-thinking, no peoples and no religions have been able to completely escape the occasional dominance of the we-they orientation. And thus violence and atrocities seem to be, albeit in significantly differing degrees, part of our human heritage.
As Charles Taylor, the eminent Canadian political philosopher has suggested (you would have heard him had you listened to the CBC instead of coming to last week's Unitarian service), this we-they perspective operates by blaming other people or groups for our problems. Through this blaming, scapegoating and demonizing, we justify terrible deeds. As the Catholic establishment did in 13th Century Europe to justify the slaughter and burning alive of the Cathars. As Canada did in the Internment of Japanese during World War Two. As the Hutus did in Rwanda in the 1994 Massacre of hundreds of thousands of Tutsis. As continues both in Darfur in the Sudan and on both sides of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As radical Muslims do to justify 9/11 in the US and 3/11 in the Madrid train station. And as the United States does to justify the invasion of Iraq, the slaughter through aerial bombing of thousands of Iraqi civilians, and the destruction of Fallujah.
The critical question, I believe, is which image-compassion or belligerent righteousness-will dominate us. Will we be ruled by a perspective which sees things so completely in we-they, either-or terms, that divides the world into the sheep and the goats, the saved and the unsaved, the true follower of Allah and the infidel, the lover of freedom and the terrorist? Or can we learn to live with each other?
I sense that Unitarianism is significantly different today than what it was 100 years ago. And I would suggest, to coin a phrase, that what the world needs now is to be significantly exposed to the same currents as those which spurred the changes in Unitarianism.
Currents, for example, that value diversity, so that now Unitarians acknowledge our debt not only to Christianity and Judaism, but also to other religions, to Greek and Roman philosophers, to the Renaissance, to the feminist consciousness, to creation religions, and to the heritage of modern science.
Currents that shifted our major emphasis from individual freedom and belief to one that also stresses the importance of relationships and community, of that which also binds us to one another, to the earth and to the Holy.
Currents that focused our sense of the Holy away from the miraculous and supernatural and onto a focus in the mundane and ordinary.
Currents that moved us from just denying a Hell, that is from just denying that a good God could save some but not all, to saying that none will be saved until all are, all of us including microbes, plants, animals, rainforests, Israelis, Palestinians, Americans and Arabs.
Currents that led us to locate the future, not in God's hands but in our own and to realize that only a global consciousness can address the challenges of the age. To recognize that the world's hope lies not in Christ or Moses or Buddha but in the ability of their devotees to live side by side on a shrinking planet.
Let me repeat that. We recognize that the world's hope lies not in Christ nor Moses nor Buddha but in the ability of their devotees to live side by side on a shrinking planet. That we believe. And it matters what we believe.
Reading: IT MATTERS WHAT WE BELIEVE
Some beliefs are like walled gardens. They encourage exclusiveness, and the feeling of being especially priviledged.
Other beliefs are expansive and lead the way into wider and deeper sympathies.
Some beliefs are like shadows, clouding children's days with fears of unknown calamities.
Other beliefs are like sunshine, blessing children with the warmth of happiness.
Some beliefs are divisive, separating the saved form the unsaved, friends from enemies.
Other beliefs are bonds in a world community, where sincere differences beautify the pattern.
Some beliefs are like blinders, shutting off the power to choose one's own direction.
Other beliefs are like gateways opening wide vistas for exploration .
Some beliefs weaken a person's self-hood. They blight the growth of resourcefulness. Other beliefs nurture self-confidence and enrich the feeling of personal worth.
Some beliefs are rigid, like the body of death, impotent in a changing world.
Other beliefs are pliable, like the young sapling, every growing with the upward thrust of life.
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