In my previous three essays I have been discussing our epistemological crisis and its implications. I worried about its consequences for metaphysics, ethics, and religion. In my last essay, I began to talk about how a new epistemology could help us take metaphysics and ethics seriously again, and I promised this time to talk about how the new experiential epistemology could help with religion as well.
Religion is regarded very negatively by a great many thoughtful people in today’s world. It is true that we see so much harm being done in the name of religion, and many think that if we just gave up on religion once and for all, that in itself would solve many of the world’s problems.
But I disagree.
It is not religion that has caused these problems, but tendencies in human nature that are rooted in fear. It is sometimes argued that religion emerged as an attempt to counter our destructive reactions to fear. All of the great world religions teach about goodness, peace, and love.
We should probably start by trying to define “religion.”
The sociological way to define religion is to say that it is comprised of several elements: it is a community gathered around a shared history and a shared worldview. The worldview presents an image of what the world is like and who we are in it. The worldview also suggests how we should live. And finally the community affirms its communal bonds, holds itself together, and reminds itself of its identity through regular rituals.
This particular definition of religion does not explicitly claim that belief in divine beings is necessary for something to count as religion.
If we consider Paul Tillich’s definition of faith as “ultimate concern,” however, we see that every worldview says something about what the community should be ultimately concerned about, and so whether or not that ultimate concern is called “God,” every religion is anchored in some belief in some ultimate concern.
But there are two senses of the expression “ultimate concern.” One is the sense in which you (or a community of faith) hold it as your ultimate concern. In this sense, anything could potentially be designated an ultimate concern: goodness, love, survival, money, power, fame, beauty, or happiness, for example. The second sense is to pose the question of which of all the possible “ultimate concerns” are truly ultimate: that is, which are actually capable of carrying the weight of the ultimate?
Is this not the fundamental question of our existence? What can we trust? What holds us, and what lets us down?
On the sociological definition of religion, a community does not necessarily have to believe in God to count as religious, but, as I suggested above, it does designate or imply an “ultimate concern” at its core. Since not all of these are necessarily genuinely ultimate, do the religions that designate un-ultimate things as ultimate concerns get to count as true religions?
A religious denomination grounded in an experiential epistemology, such as Quakerism, seeks instead of dictates what is truly ultimate. Many people think that religion is necessarily dogmatic but Quakerism, being non-creedal, is explicitly undogmatic. It shares this epistemological stance with science. (Even religions that might look more dogmatic might not be as dogmatic as they appear, but that is a topic for a different essay.) The reason an experiential religion seeks the ultimate and yet humbly refuses to define for others exactly what it is is because of the realization that our attempts to do so are likely to be inadequate and misleading.
Within an experiential religion, there is an implicit presumption that there is something that fulfills the requirements of being genuinely ultimate, which may be the most general meaning of the term “God.” It is also appropriate to associate that term with traditional concepts such as goodness and love, but we must refrain from imposing rigid closed definitions on any of these terms. These concepts cannot be comprehended (that is, completely understood) but only apprehended (that is, we can live into a partial understanding of them). Thus, it is up to each of us to seek our understanding of the ultimate. This is an experiential process. We live in constant relationship to the ultimate, whether we realize it or not, whether we recognize it or not. The spiritual life of religious seekers is one of a perpetual quest to try to understand what is truly ultimate and to live in proper relationship to it.
I greatly value being part of a community of faith that is connected through history and shares a common outlook on life. We support each other in our efforts to live positive meaningful lives in this very confusing world. We gather regularly to stay in touch, celebrate life’s joys, and offer comfort and encouragement through life’s difficulties. We keep reminding each other of our shared values, and we share our confusions, dilemmas, insights, and wisdom. We try to bring out the best in each other, but we love each other even when we fall short.
This is what religion means to me, and is why it makes no sense to me that getting rid of it would make the world better. Abandon the quest to align our lives with the ultimate? It doesn’t seem likely to me that settling for what is less than ultimate would improve the world. Give up on trying to understand and live true to goodness and love? How could giving up on goodness and love possibly solve our problems? Turn our backs on our history? Abandon community, friendship, integrity, supporting each other, reminding each other, and forgiving each other? It is hard to believe that abandoning any of these could possibly benefit the world.
The reason I believe it is still possible to reclaim a positive sense of religion is that I am fortunate enough to belong to a community of faith that exemplifies the ideal I have defined. Although it is the false pretenders to religion that get most of the media attention these days, the positive kind of religion I describe is actually still alive and well.