The faith Between Them...
So, as promised, I emailed the authors of The Faith Between Us. I sent a few Laurelish questions, and they responded!!!
I'm going to post the answers one at a time, as they're worth chewing on for a bit.
Bear in mind, Korb is Catholic and Bebergal is Jewish.
Today's Question: Does believing in god mean believing in heaven?
Bebergal: This is one of the fundamental questions that brought me and Scott together. We both believe that a focus on the otherworldly is a dangerous proposition for our lives in this world. But specifically, I find believing in God makes heaven seem like very unlikely. On the one hand, my conception of God is very influenced by mysticism, and so there is really no room for a separate "place" apart from the godhead. On the other hand, I believe that all the punishment (not really the word I would use) and redemption are part of our spiritual lives here and now. But most importantly, it is very hard to conceive of a heaven that does not contain some kind of literal meaning. My six-year-old son Sam asks about God and heaven a lot, and he wants to know if there are bathrooms there and if you get to take all your toys, or only what you can carry with you.
The only relationship I can have with God is the one while I am alive. The promise of a heaven holds nothing for me. If my life, the things I do and the things I am trying to become, if these things are to measure of the hope of heaven, then all my mitzvot, all my good deeds have been done in vain. But words like heaven are still important, because they provide us with a rich metaphorical language with which to talk about our religious lives.
Korb: As far as I'm concerned, believing in God doesn't even have to mean believing in God, if you catch my drift. (Which, I understand, you probably don't.) But, in terms of how I talk about God – which, depending on the context, is sometimes very straightforward (say, when I'm in church) and other times very convoluted (say, when I'm not in church) – I do like to use words like heaven, hell, sin, transcendence, and so on. I'm working on a book now, in fact, where hell is the perfect metaphor for some of the lives I have to describe. In other words, like Peter, I have a religious imagination. I tap into mythical language. But myths, the richest source for religious teaching we have, are important only for what they reveal about our obligations to one another, how to be friends, parents, and also, how to be lovers. "We need myths," writes Karen Armstrong, a former Catholic nun turned religion scholar, "that help us to create a spiritual attitude, to see beyond our immediate requirements, and enable us to experience a transcendent value that challenges our solipsistic selfishness." As religious adults, in the world, we experience spiritual attitudes, not spirits; we seek transcendent value, not transcendence. And selfishness, not sex, and not Satan—although we may call it that—is the enemy.
I'm going to post the answers one at a time, as they're worth chewing on for a bit.
Bear in mind, Korb is Catholic and Bebergal is Jewish.
Today's Question: Does believing in god mean believing in heaven?
Bebergal: This is one of the fundamental questions that brought me and Scott together. We both believe that a focus on the otherworldly is a dangerous proposition for our lives in this world. But specifically, I find believing in God makes heaven seem like very unlikely. On the one hand, my conception of God is very influenced by mysticism, and so there is really no room for a separate "place" apart from the godhead. On the other hand, I believe that all the punishment (not really the word I would use) and redemption are part of our spiritual lives here and now. But most importantly, it is very hard to conceive of a heaven that does not contain some kind of literal meaning. My six-year-old son Sam asks about God and heaven a lot, and he wants to know if there are bathrooms there and if you get to take all your toys, or only what you can carry with you.
The only relationship I can have with God is the one while I am alive. The promise of a heaven holds nothing for me. If my life, the things I do and the things I am trying to become, if these things are to measure of the hope of heaven, then all my mitzvot, all my good deeds have been done in vain. But words like heaven are still important, because they provide us with a rich metaphorical language with which to talk about our religious lives.
Korb: As far as I'm concerned, believing in God doesn't even have to mean believing in God, if you catch my drift. (Which, I understand, you probably don't.) But, in terms of how I talk about God – which, depending on the context, is sometimes very straightforward (say, when I'm in church) and other times very convoluted (say, when I'm not in church) – I do like to use words like heaven, hell, sin, transcendence, and so on. I'm working on a book now, in fact, where hell is the perfect metaphor for some of the lives I have to describe. In other words, like Peter, I have a religious imagination. I tap into mythical language. But myths, the richest source for religious teaching we have, are important only for what they reveal about our obligations to one another, how to be friends, parents, and also, how to be lovers. "We need myths," writes Karen Armstrong, a former Catholic nun turned religion scholar, "that help us to create a spiritual attitude, to see beyond our immediate requirements, and enable us to experience a transcendent value that challenges our solipsistic selfishness." As religious adults, in the world, we experience spiritual attitudes, not spirits; we seek transcendent value, not transcendence. And selfishness, not sex, and not Satan—although we may call it that—is the enemy.
3 Comments:
"Selfishness, sex, and Satan," should be a Motorhead album-title.
"We need myths," writes Karen Armstrong, a former Catholic nun turned religion scholar, "that help us to create a spiritual attitude, to see beyond our immediate requirements, and enable us to experience a transcendent value that challenges our solipsistic selfishness."
To quote the Indian sage, Tonto, "What do you mean by we."
For me, I distrust stories, even as I admit (for my own safety) my primate brain's deftness in making them up. We really should just see exactly what is, without the weight of our stories attached. Stories end up being much more about the people creating them than the world they purport to explain. (Viz: the "king bee", "family values", and "The Protocols of the Learnedèd Elders of Zion".)
Once we are embedded in a story we are easily manipulated by those who are good at manipulating stories. These can be the merely clever, but very often they turn out to be the hired servants of the people who already control our world---think of how bleatingly our nation followed G.W.B. into war, and will probably sweep the authoritarian Giuliani into office.
How do we guess we've encountered reality? When we find something that is proof against words, or, deeper, human desires and expectations.
jewishyirishy? Oy, jost a secind...det's my little shicksahs yer sprechin' about.
Hey, whaddya get when you combine a jewishy guy and an irishy girl?
A Unitarian. (at least in my house)
Say, did you hear the one about the old man who died and went to heaven, and was greeted by God himself.
"So, you are real," said the old man.
"Of course I'm real," said God. And so is this place. And the fact is, it doesn't matter what faith you were on earth, here we are tolerant of all faiths. Over there in the west, see that beautiful cathedral? That's for the Catholics, where they go to worship. And see that incredible mosque to the east? That's where the Muslims go to pray, usually five times a day. And look at that beautiful building with the minarets. That's for the Eastern Orthodox people. The spend a lot of time there. And see that simple building? That's our synagogue, where the Jews worship."
"But God," asked the old man. "Who are those people over there, sitting in that grove of trees, smoking cigarettes and talking?"
"Oh, those," God said, "are the Unitarian Universalists.` They're debating whether they are here or not."
Now, believing in God is a simple premise, and what it means to me is irrelevant. What is relevant is what it means to YOU. Do you believe in heaven? Fine. Do you need to believe in heaven in order to get on to tomorrow? Okay.
What it DOES mean to me is that there are things that happen that cannot be explained. Like why, if God is such a force of good, are there so many natural disasters that take so many lives? Like why can't fundamental Christians accept that the Muslims believe in a God, too? And not the one they believe in? Like why does Anne Coulter think I need to be perfected? Like why do I only lose my car keys when I am running late?
I believe that God exists. Because I trust the judgment of my best friend Tony, a born-again Christian, and he believes in God. So God certainly exists for him and his family, so he MUST, by definition, exist.
I don't believe that Heaven exists (for me). I think it's something that was created by early religious leaders to provide a carrot at the end of the stick in order to maintain some semblance of order two thousand (or fewer) years ago.
But by examining the same argument I made about God, Heaven MUST exist, because it exists for my friend Tony.
If it exists for JUST ONE PERSON, it must, then by definition, exist. To deny that one person his or her belief would be an unGodly notion, the Christian Right's opinion notwithstanding (oops, there's my politics showing through, sorry).
After all, who am I to be the arbiter of what's right or wrong with your belief? For right now, I'll leave that to the Republicans.
Long live the JewishyIrishy Unitarians, Jeff and Ellen.
www.freddsjourney.vox.com
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