The experiment could be quite simple.
Say, for one month, "fast" by giving up all of your current religious practices:I welcome suggestions for improving the experiment, and four days ago I asked a few religious friends for input:Don't pray.At the end of the month's fast, evaluate how it went:
Don't "think about God."
Don't go to church (or synagogue, mosque, temple, kingdom hall, or whatever).
Don't read the Bible (or whatever your holy text is).
See how it feels.Was it difficult?
In what ways?
Did you lack anything essential?
What, precisely?
What do you make of those findings?
Do you think such an experiment would even be possible, let alone easy? [If religion is an addiction, violent withdrawal symptoms might manifest during the first few days of the experiment2.]But they haven't replied3, even though I'd added:
How do you imagine that you yourself would feel during the month if you attempted it?
How would you anticipate the post-experiment evaluation to go?
I'd appreciate your insights, not to mention your profession of continuing to love me despite my being critical of religion. I love you even though you are religious.I had told them that I realized I might be walking a perilous line, maybe even on a knife's edge, wanting to subject religion to some necessary criticism without alienating my religious friends.
Is that possible?
_______________
- I have in a sense been performing this experiment myself for over two years (since September 9, 2007), with eye-opening results: I've lost nothing essential by giving up religion entirely for that period. But, more important, without the burden of religion weighing on me, I've gained a marvelous sense of freedom and lightness.
- As my post of September 9, 2007 makes clear, addiction played no part in my own religious experience. It isn't clear, though, whether my tendency to criticize religion might itself be a kind of addiction. I do incline to feel uneasy if more than a few days go by and I haven't said something unflattering about it. That would be a species of unfreedom.
- But see a later post.
I was glad this morning to find that one of the friends mentioned had replied by email last evening:
ReplyDeleteHi Mo,
It would not be possible for me to engage in your experiment. For one thing, I am Senior Warden and Financial Secretary for my parish and a member of the Diocesan Council, and I have duties to perform in all of these roles. Perhaps I can not say for sure that God exists, but if he does exist, he wants me to be doing these things.
"I'm relieved to hear from you," I wrote back, "and grateful. Thank you.
"I appreciate the good-natured way you stand behind hypothetical God and slyly let him take the rap for your actual non-participation in the experiment. Well done!"
you are definitely obsessed. :) I guess there are worse addictions to have.
ReplyDeletePG, thanks for the friendly confirmation that I might maybe need to look into this further. <smile>
ReplyDeleteLOL. I JUST read an article with a passage that might be of interest but I left the magazine in Arizona and it is not online. Basically it was about a Jewish woman (non-practicing, perhaps non-believing) meeting a guy who writes about yoga and meditation. the two discuss sprituality and the guy mentions that he enjoys the ritual of going to church even though he is not a "believer." Soemthing about the routine was comforting to him. I think it is that way for a lot of people. They like the routine, being part of the group... so don't even think to question the beliefs behind it all... why? what difference does it make if it is true or not? When they die they won't know they were wrong!
ReplyDeletePineapple Girl, our friend Steve in Germany seems to share the point of view of "What difference does it make?," and many people undoubtedly feel as comfortable as he seems to feel in thinking that way. (Not that I've heard from Steve lately; it has been quite a while, in fact.)
ReplyDeleteWhile I can appreciate the truth in "What difference does it make?," it's only abstractly true for me. That is, it isn't a view in which I do (or can) take any comfort.
I think that a sort of impatience lies at the heart of my particular obsession. I believe that in some future age, human beings (assuming that they survive) will come to view religion the way they have come (since Copernicus and Galileo) to view the earth-centric view of the universe. It just ain't so.
My impatience is in wanting to rush the change in way of thinking. I admire the more patient, understanding view of Tufts University philosopher Daniel C. Dennett. I've just begun to read (by listening to) his 1995 book, Darwin's Dangerous Idea: Evolution and the Meanings of Life, which promises to be an ever more enjoyable and rewarding read than his 1991 Consciousness Explained, which I finished reading (listening to) last week. Dennett comes across as a sort for Walt Whitmanesque grandfather, kind and understanding toward all. He is sympathetic with religious people, and doesn't begrudge them whatever comfort and solace they derive from their beliefs, however passé they now are. He isn't out to get them or hell bent to defeat them in logic. He acknowledges that we all ignore certain arguments. People are more amenable to stories.
What I need to be concentrating on (and writing about on this blog, which, after all, announces itself as "celebrating evolved life and learn on Earth") is the grand story (myth in the right sense) that we have a scientific, rational right to believe in. I've been going around in critical circles, it seems, rather than set off in the hopeful direction of constructing that new myth founded in reality and scientific fact.
A lot to think about.