Religion is a topic that interests me greatly. I am, however, uncomfortable with even trying to put a label on my own theological outlook because I’m not sure what that outlook is, particularly so since it changes with time. I know I am not a true believer, or nonbeliever, of any stripe, and none of the various religious options feels right, be it some form of Christianity, Judaism or any other “ism,” or any of the so-called New Age movements.
I suppose the Greek pantheon of gods (who fight and seduce one another and humans as well) makes as much sense or non-sense as some stern, vengeful, and incomprehensible Hebraic God who sports a long white beard and a frown. Every religious sect or belief system I have considered has always felt too tight across the shoulders. I just don’t think we are intelligent or wise enough to even pose the question about the existence of God, much less recruit, objectify, dislike, or even kill others in the name of whatever God we believe in.
Although I’m a sort of freethinker, I admire the deeds and thoughts of many believers: the quiet passion for social justice of Quakers, the meditative worldview of many Buddhists, and the work of some evangelical Christians in the current reprise of the sanctuary movement from the 1980s. Elsewhere in this blog, I have written about the elegant work of the Jewish philosopher Martin Buber in his insightful and important book, “I and Thou.”
Religion is also a frequent subject of my reading. I particularly like two books by Harvard theologian Harvey Cox: “The Secular City,” written a half century ago, and “The Market as God,” published a few years ago, in which Cox describes the contemporary belief in the wisdom and power of the “Market” as a form of religion.
On the subject of the Bible, my favorite verse is from the Book of Ecclesiastes. In the King James Version it goes, “Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.” All is indeed vanity. How vain we have become in our society of plenty where we are so inundated by advertising that our main identity is not citizen but rather consumer—we are what we consume. Much of our individual identity is shaped by what we drive, where we live, what brand of shoes or clothing we wear, what gin or wine we drink, what schools our children attend. There is a huge industry of propagandists that creates ads to prey on our needs, hopes, and insecurities, to make us feel that we can become better and somehow more special by what we buy, where we dine, for whom we vote. The act of consuming becomes an act of vanity. What do all of the fine things we desire and buy mean to us at the end of our lives, yet how much damage does the desire for and acquisition of them do to us every day? In that sense, all is vanity. But in another sense what counts in life is not the vanity that runs through possessions or fame; rather it is the connection with others—our family, our friends, our communities. Indeed, intimacy trumps vanity every time.
Finally, I turn away from the Bible and end with some words from Emerson on religion: “Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.”
I am a recently converted pastafarian. I have experienced 2 epiphanies in my life, but in this most recent, the 3rd one now, I have seen the true underlying nature of the universe in all its terrifying glory.