Preface: Part Two
We began Part One with some preliminary observations about Consciousness, the world and meaning. We explored how the mind limits the mind. What we believe is what we see. We pointed to the importance of storytelling and the narratives that constitute our beliefs.
In Chapter Two, we acquainted ourselves with some basic post-modern understandings of language and power. We considered how overt force, formerly concentrated in the hands of kings and aristocrats, transformed into the less obviously coercive power dispersed in microtheatres of our everyday life. A brief investigation into language touched on words and how they communicate meaning. We saw that words, grammar rules and the workings of language necessarily leave marks on what we say — even what we think. We followed words coming together to form discourses that interact in narrative fields. Entire universes constructed of words. Words that have no necessary connection with anything outside the sign system to which they supposedly refer. Words that we can deconstruct to reveal what they’re keeping from us.In Chapter Three, we unraveled the core story — the master narrative — we use to tell ourselves who we are, where we are and what we are doing here. We recognized the source of our problems in the mistaken idea that we are utterly separate selves in an object Universe. We clarified that correcting this error need not mean returning to a Pre-Modern mindset that would limit our freedom and threaten our individuality. We noted how the master narrative itself curbs our freedom by locking us into competition and hierarchies, poisoning our relationships, preventing us from developing our talents, constantly undermining our self-esteem and alienating us from Nature. We explored how group identities can become modalities of the master narrative.
In Part Two, we highlight discourses that run counter to the master narrative. Chapter Four will look into religious and spiritual traditions; Chapter Five, scientific discourse; Chapter Six, the arts; and Chapter Seven, the connection between identity and our engagement with the Universe at birth. We will limit our discussion of these vast fields by keeping our focus on elements that can help us address the pending crisis.
Chapter Four: Alternative Narratives in Religious and Spiritual Traditions
Introduction
Before looking into religious and spiritual traditions, we need to acknowledge certain difficulties. The sheer number of such narratives makes it impossible for us to look at them all. A multiplicity of interpretations only compounds this problem. Of course, any discussion of religion, whether or not that religion is one’s own, risks conflict with someone else’s understanding. We hope that the following considerations communicate a heartfelt respect and ring true for adherents and non-adherents alike.
Finally, we must acknowledge from the outset that no religion or tradition is immune to contamination by the master narrative. Almost all religions condemn hatred, violence and selfishness. Yet, human history abounds with stories of wars, crusades, inquisitions, massacres, pogroms, terrorism, fear and intolerance perpetrated in the name of religion. Nazi SS belt-buckles carried the insignia, “God with us.” Suicide bombers believe they will be rewarded for their martyrdom with Heaven. Religious institutions have survived by compromising themselves on lesser scales as well. As discussed in Part One, religions additionally serve the master narrative when they teach that evil has Eternality, (whether or not embodied in a mythological being such as the devil); and/or that we should look elsewhere — to an afterlife — for the fulfillment of our collective dreams. Such problems of this sort have alienated some to the point that they see little or no redemptive value in religion.
To linger on the negative, however, works against recognizing that religion carries some of the strongest narrative threads that transcend or question the ego idea. From the earliest known texts, we find religious and spiritual traditions telling us there is another way. Almost all acknowledge the distance between how we can imagine our world and what we’re actually creating. Most offer explanations for this. Many illuminate a pathway from here to where we’d like to be.
The Heart of the Matter
Whatever our beliefs, almost all of us would agree that we do not much like isolation, loneliness, alienation. Our greatest pleasures derive from love. We find joy in shared experiences and conversations with significant others, friends and family. We celebrate each other’s talents, commitments and accomplishments. We appreciate others’ recognition of what we do. We desire respect. Gift-giving and helping in times of need bring out a spirit in us that we wish would last forever. We risk and sacrifice our very lives for one another. Work transforms into delight when love and meaning engage our will in the activity. We have similar experiences with Nature, our pets, our gardens, the edge of landscapes, beneath the moon and night skies, listening to music, during art performances, before paintings, sculptures and so on. Our most treasured moments are those in which we feel we belong and participate as full human beings. Conflict, stress, meaninglessness, boredom, even pain fall away — replaced by a sense of wonder, relationship, fulfillment.
We would all prefer a secure, cooperative and supportive workplace, where we are compensated fairly for our contribution, treated with genuine respect and where we participate as equals in decision making that affects us. We would like our neighborhoods to express and actualize community. None of us likes the fact that people live in ghettoes or are homeless, hungry and without adequate health care. We would rather not be taken down a pathway of perpetual war, frustrated in our efforts to attain happiness, limited in our freedom and ultimately threatened with extinction because of environmental degradation. Although the master narrative tells us there is no other way, we have always talked back.
Among the most powerful alternative visionaries is theologian philosopher Martin Buber. According to Buber, our world is two-fold — a reflection of the two-fold attitude we bring to it. The World of I-You and the World of I-It. A world unified through personal presence. Or fragmented by objectification.
For Buber, Being is Being-with. We only become who we are as we enter into relationship — specifically, relationships of reciprocity. To fully be, then, we need to leave behind ways of thinking that separate us out. The interpersonal is preempted by competition, powering over, viewing the other as an “it.” The alternative is to relate to the other as a “You,” (or “Thou”), who is as fully a subject-center as the “I.” This kind of You-saying engages us beyond the categories of use. It is only in an I-You relationship where others are not a “this” or a “that” to us, that we are truly present. The boundaries of time and space, even our causal explanations, slip away. Buber’s You has no borders.
Buber sees this same presence waiting for us in spheres besides the inter-human. Nature has the power to engage us wordlessly in You-ness. And spiritual quietude or moments inspired by art can likewise recall us from the It-world. Harkening back to Spinoza and his 17th-century identification of “extension” and “thought” (matter and energy) as the two attributes of the Universe, Buber adds “Person” as a third and equally fundamental attribute.
When lines of I-You relationships are extended, they intersect as radii of a central, Absolute You (that is, God). Community happens because the relationships reveal this Center, the You of the participants. Thus, in every You encounter — with others, in quietude and with Nature — we engage the Eternal You. Emmanuel Levinas elaborated Buber’s understanding of Love as a force when he wrote of the Infinite we hold in our capacity to respond to one another. The Sacred — present everywhere and waiting — requires a non-objectifying model of the Universe.
Paleontologist and theologian Teilhard de Chardin moved in this personalizing direction with his treatise, The Human Phenomenon. He asserts that insofar as we humans are conscious and made of matter, all of matter must have consciousness. His work traces an evolution in which matter complexifies from Earth’s earliest stages, through the appearance of Life, to the thought-work of the humans. He envisions humanity arriving at an Omega point, which may emerge in peace as we eliminate disease, hunger and evil itself. Or the Omega may arrive amidst terrible tension as a decisive moment when we choose between Universal Love and brute force. In either case, the drama involves a living planet unfolding a profound interpersonalism.
When we replace the understanding of the Universe as object with the effort to comprehend the World as subject, matter lives — from the tiniest vibrating string to gatherings of galaxies. Atoms, molecules, cells, plants, flowers, trees, insects, birds, fish, animals, planets, stars… all share — in unique ways — the consciousness, personality and freedom that we experience within our own frame of reference. This approach is not new. We human beings have always created non-objectifying narratives about Nature.
Although diverse in expression, Native American traditions generally relate to Nature as living, conscious and Sacred. Many begin a prayer by calling upon the four directions (or quarters), the heavens and the Earth, asking the entire Universe to join voices with them. What is requested in prayer is often help to live with reverent awareness of the Referent. “I now place my feet upon the Earth. With great happiness I walk upon the Sacred Earth, Our Mother. May generations to come also walk in this sacred manner.” Living in a sacred manner involves understanding events that unfold each day as invitations for engagement. Meeting any creature along the path may be an encounter with a cosmic messenger, a visit by an ancestral or archetypal spirit, an opportunity to prove oneself by honoring or helping a fellow being. Religious rituals express a worldview all about relationship. “The two-leggeds, the four-leggeds, the wingeds and all that move upon You are Your children. With all beings and all things we shall be as relatives.” What could be more counter to the ego narrative?
Coming from the other side of the globe, the ancient Chinese Book of Changes or I-Ching assumes that as self-conscious beings we are capable of interactive dialogue with the Universe. The I-Ching locates the “random” as a place where that communion can occur. One consults the book by focusing on a particular circumstance, question or problem while letting chance affect the drop of coins or the shuffle of a small bundle of sticks. The coins or sticks connect with the text by way of a mathematically based system of open and closed lines. Using poetry, metaphor and images drawn from Nature, the I-Ching offers insight into the direction events are taking and suggests a course of action. Besides enacting a living engagement with the Universe, the I-Ching consistently guides the reader away from egoism and toward community.
Ideas gathered from the I-Ching contributed to the philosophy of Taoism, formulated by Lao-Tse. We see elements of a counter narrative in what Lao-Tse called the “three treasures.” The first treasure is Benevolence; the second, Frugality; the third, Non-competitiveness. “Tao” means a small road, path or “the way.” It is the force, the origin, the energy that sustains and informs the Universe. Taoism sees Nature as coherent and inherently good. Following the “way” means living in harmony with that Cosmic order. Lao-Tse envisioned Earth as a sacred vessel. “If you try to own it,” he warned, “you will lose it.” In its entirety, the Tao is beyond human comprehension. Yet, our efforts to grasp and live by its principles promise peace and happiness.
Such representations of ourselves as integral to a living Universe are fundamental to countering the master narrative. With a recognition of our connection with Nature, we have a purpose here on Earth. With a sense of belonging, we are able to develop our responsibility. Yet, surrounded by the words, structures, institutions and microtheatres of power produced by the ego narrative, we can be pressed into its service — despite our best intentions.
Tools of Consciousness
Religious and spiritual traditions remind us that we must care for the mental dimension of our being as much as we care for the material. Critical thinking, quietude, cultivation of love, forgiveness, courage, mercy and so forth are as important to the health of our minds as eating healthy foods, exercising and getting the proper amount of sleep are to our bodies. We are able to respond to one another and our world to the degree that we see ourselves as beloved members of a larger community. We also need information about perspectives other than our own and sufficient self-control to hold to our choices. Emotional stability, mental health and personal happiness depend on the mind skills we develop in childhood and throughout our lives.
Most religions include practices that help adherents navigate states of mind. Prayer turns attention to what is greater than the self and engages the mind with the Sacred. Retreats provide a special time and place for cultivating states of quietude, reflection and renewal. Fasting requires one to exercise control over impulses and, in some religious traditions, has the express purpose of encouraging compassion by increasing awareness of how it feels to be deprived.
Religious or not, people all over the world now benefit from recent adaptations of spiritual traditions such as Yoga and Zen. A story from the folklore of India illustrates the importance of methods that help us control our psychic states. Long ago, people in India discovered that elephants, with their incredible strength, remarkable intelligence and cooperative spirit, could help humans with heavy and difficult tasks. But when elephants passed through a village on their way to work, their swaying trunks wreaked havoc in the marketplace, overturning tables and upsetting everything. The people solved this problems by giving them short logs to carry with their trunks. Our minds, too, can swing destructively this way and that, unless we give them something to hold.
A mantra can serve this purpose. Originating in the Hindu tradition, passed on to Buddhists and later to people everywhere, mantras provide a place to focus attention. Mantras can include poems, prayers, lines of prose, quotes, maxims, song lyrics, aphorisms, motivational sayings… Something to hold onto. They can vary in length from a single syllable or word to several sentences. By repeating the mantra throughout the day, you return your mind to a desired state. A mantra, however, only works if you have the will to use it.
We may have mixed feelings about exercising our will. When practiced as power-over the self, will-power can become a form of unhealthy and unpleasant self-coercion. It is possible, however, to exercise one’s will as power-with the self. In dealing with mental states, we can cooperate with the way our minds work. Letting go of an unproductive line of thinking, for example, need not mean blocking or suppressing unwanted thoughts. You can turn your mind from one avenue to another without trying to destroy or deny the abandoned way. And you can do this most effectively by creating positive energy in the new direction. To accomplish this reliably, you need to develop your will.
Meditation can help us exercise our will-power muscles. Most approaches suggest practicing once or twice daily for at least twenty minutes each time. Some traditions advocate short meditative moments throughout the day. Techniques include paying attention to one’s breathing, posing a series of questions, focusing on a candle flame, even trying to empty the mind — as in thinking of “nothing.” An easier version employs imagery and symbol making. You imagine some scene, object, or event which you choose to associate with a particular state or process such as vibrant health, relaxing the body, quieting the mind or calming the emotions. The possibilities are endless. During meditative sessions, you imagine your symbols in ever greater detail, tightening the connection between the symbol and its signification. Soon you are able to retrieve that meaning by bringing the symbol to mind. Whatever method you use, you will need to return your mind to the meditation each time you drift away. If you drift frequently, that too can help. Every time you repeat the action of returning your mind, you grow stronger.
Self-directed exploration of inner space has many benefits. Meditation opens the possibility of investigating and rewriting narratives about oneself, one’s relationship with others and the World. In a kind of self-hypnosis, you can sculpt the future by rehearsing responses and imagining desired outcomes. Meditation opens a space to engage the You at the Center of our lives — the You waiting in every encounter.
Religious Reunion
While the ego narrative would lead to complete social disintegration, religion aims at community. The very word religion comes from the latin, religio, “to bind together.” Although religions have often divided us, their common opposition to egoism could help us come together and save our world.
Judaism, Christianity and Islam might sometimes appear irreconcilable, yet share common ground precisely in the alternative each offers to the standard model of “every man for himself.” Although selected passages of the Talmud, Bible and Koran have been interpreted to justify war or uphold unlimited property accumulation, these holy books can also be found to call for the creation of an I-You World. Certainly these religions do not commonly teach that we can create the world that all of us desire. Such a vision verges on hoping that Heaven could annex Earth, fallen angels repent and God redeem Hell — ideas that many theologians would contest. But few would go so far as to say what God can and cannot do.
The promise of paradise has roots in Judaism. The covenant formed between G-d and the People of Israel choreographs the on-going process of Creation. G-d remains ever present as protector; while the People are to exercise proper care of the Universe. The relationship finds fulfillment in scriptural moments such as Isaiah’s prophecy of men turning their “swords into plowshares, spears into pruning hooks.” Jewish scholars originally anticipated that an individual Messiah would bring about the transformation. Many Jews today understand the great change in terms of a Messianic Age, one in which everyone participates. As observed earlier, Jewish philosopher/theologian Martin Buber has contributed immensely to envisioning that Moment.
The Hebrew word “Mitzvah” is central to the fulfillment of the human side of the divine covenant. Although mitzvah originally referred to the commandments enumerated in the Torah (the five books of Moses), it later came to include all of Jewish Law. Mitzvah now commonly refers to all acts of human kindness. The evolution of its meaning followed easily from the purpose of Jewish Law itself — the creation of a just and loving society. Jews are commanded to help the poor and needy. Jewish Law forbids taking advantage of others. In Judaism, what one does matters more than what one says. The community envisioned is one in which all of the people care for one another in every way.
Approximately two thousand years ago, a community of Jews gathered around the individual, Jesus Christ, whose teachings led them to believe he was the Promised Savior. “Forgive your enemies.” “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” “Feed the hungry.” “Shelter the homeless.” “Sell what you have and give to the poor.” “Love one another.” Predictably, the colonial authorities crucified the preacher of so radical a counter narrative.
Christ summarized his vision at his last supper. He broke bread and shared wine with his closest followers, exhorting them to do so in remembrance of him — being as He had been, food for one another. The ethical imperatives He taught and the altruism symbolized in the act of communion run completely contrary to the get-for-yourself behavior the ego narrative encourages. Christians believe that Christ will one day return to fulfill the promise of paradise. If the Second Coming were to begin in each and every believer’s heart and manifest in the world — by all Christians uncompromisingly putting His loving words into action — the Heavens might verily seem to break open with His power and glory.
Around fourteen hundred years ago, significant social change was occurring in what is now called Saudi Arabia. Many people were abandoning nomadic patterns in favor of settlements. As local commerce and the caravan trade grew, a business mentality began displacing former loyalties and sensitivities. The morality of profit making was pushing aside peoples’ concern for each other, weakening the social fabric. In this context, the Prophet Muhammad was inspired to begin a new religion drawing on all the prophets God had sent humankind. The teachings of Abraham, Moses and Jesus contributed significantly to Islam.
Mohammed emphasized that God (Allah) is One and the Universe Allah created purposeful. He taught that each human being has the responsibility of taking care of others and working for peace and justice. “He is not a perfect believer, who goes to bed full and knows that his neighbor is hungry.” “Do not let your hatred of a people incite you to aggression.” “And do not let ill-will towards any folk incite you so that you swerve from dealing justly.” Islam encourages a remarkable degree of religious mindfulness. Adherents are required to pray five times daily, make a yearly fast and undertake a pilgrimage to Mecca at least once during their lifetime.
All three of these religions share a belief that the world — and time — will some day come to an end. The metaphors used vary, but the message is much the same. Terrible events will precede a Last Judgment. God will call all of creation together and require the living and the dead to account for how they lived their lives. Goodness will be rewarded. Evil punished. For all Eternity.
Many believers feel that scriptural descriptions of End Times sound much like the conditions we are presently facing. One could certainly argue that we need no more nightmare scenarios to satisfy the apocalyptic passages; after two World Wars, the Shoah, deployment of nuclear weapons, worldwide terrorism, global warming. No more anti-Christs after Hitler, Stalin and a long list of other genocidal dictators. We will destroy the world if we continue polluting the air, depleting the oceans, cutting down the forests, poisoning the environment. In effect, physicists have announced the end of time as we know it. (Counter narratives in science are explored in the next chapter).
Since the fulfillment of prophecies seldom takes exactly the form the human mind anticipates, we could consider a non-traditional —unexpected and immediate — interpretation of End of the World discourse. What if we open our minds to the possibility of God working through us in the Last Judgment? Our institutions and systems are informed by a man-made ego narrative that generates greed and strife. Surely, this master narrative cannot accord with the Divine Will. We humans produce, maintain and constantly adapt our sign systems and narratives. We could change the story we’re telling ourselves and alter our behavior. Put away our weapons. Feed the hungry. Love one another. We have the democratic political processes, the communications technology and transportation capabilities to completely transform our world. We decide — here and now — whether the outcome will be eternal paradise or damnation.
Conclusion
Whatever our relationship with religion, we humans have arrived at a crossroads. Down one path, we will certainly face a continuation or worsening of troubles such as: strife among nations, ethnic groups, religions and classes; the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction; environmental degradation; unsustainable human population growth; despair; extinction. Down the other path, we may find: the intelligence, compassion, forgiveness and inspiration to solve these problems; the means to meet the needs of everyone; the fulfillment of our desires for a World of Love. We stand at the threshold of judgment time. A judgment that could be the last. A judgment placed in each of our hands. Whether with conscious intent or not, we are making that judgment.
Judgment? The very idea can trigger strong negative reactions. Popular culture has developed an aversion to anything “judgmental.” And there are good reasons for this widespread feeling against making negative judgments, especially about other peoples’ behavior. Of course, we object to hypocrites who secretly engage in the very behavior they publicly castigate or manipulators who use moral judgments to serve private economic and political interests. More importantly, we have seen that the moral codes on which we base such judgments can prove false. As the twentieth century began, for example, women were considered morally reprehensible merely for wearing make-up or skirts that showed their ankles. In effect, people who object to “moralizing” are themselves taking a moral stand against false judgment.
Despite the validity of that stance, we would be deluding ourselves to think we can or should let our distrust extend to all judgments. Having minds open to infinite possibility means that we humans will always be capable of generating unproductive, destructive pathways. We would be hopelessly lost without the ability to discern whether a particular thought leads to progress or regression, health or sickness, etc. Decision-making and acting are the quintessence of authentic personal life. We find ourselves making judgments from the moment we awake to the hour we choose for sleep. We constantly choose which ideas to favor and which to let wither for lack of attention. Human history shows what can happen when individuals fail to extend this judging activity into the larger world. The Holocaust and Nuremburg trials made dreadfully clear the inadequacy of uncritically adopting morals received from authority figures, even beloved parents or trusted pastors. Whether we like it or not, we each bear responsibility for our world as well as our actions. We are rightly wary about setting ourselves up to make judgments about others’ behavior. Nonetheless, we must judge. Judging is not the problem.
The problem is a destructive master narrative and our inability, until recently, to deconstruct it. As long as we did not understand the workings of language and narrative fields, we could not recognize the extent of our involvement in perpetuating the world we didn’t want. We could try to formulate concepts of good and bad, right and wrong on the basis of the results we learned certain actions produced. We could strive to serve the common good. But we could only go so far while submerged in cultures based on the master narrative. The ego identity represents others as separate entities, urges us to objectify one another and celebrates competition. We now have developed the tools that permit us to think beyond these limitations and realize the dream of paradise that our religious and spiritual traditions have kept alive.
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