"Human beings, man," is what I kept saying out loud, in bewilderment, as I progressed through this week's reading. We (I'm including myself in this grouping of all human beings) believe, say, and do some pretty weird things for reasons that we often cannot articulate. The concept on which I want to concentrate in this post is that of "that which was lost", since this seems to be what everyone in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam is trying to "regain" somehow.
The words "return", "consolation", "hope", and "reconstruct" or "rebuild" appear often in this selection of chapters (in ch 8 especially) in reference to all three faiths. Everyone seems to be harkening back to a past where we were much holier, much more connected to the divine, much more at peace with each other. This vague yet pleasant-soudning past exists largely in the myths that we examined in the first section of chapters, so one must have faith that these narratives are the truth before one can deeply desire their reemergence to reality. Once one has established this belief in the way things were in the days of yore and this desire for them to return, one must conceptualize how that return would be possible. Does it include the participation of others? Is it up to the individual to recreate that divine connection for themselves? Are physical objects or places involved in this resurrection, or perhaps certain words or actions or mindsets? How else could a lost people experience god but through old traditions?
Julian saw Christianity as a "fragrantly casting off of hallowed [Pagan] traditions" (p. 193).
John latched onto Christ as "the fulfillment of the old Zion cult" (p. 158).
The Jewish zealots who committed mass suicide atop Masada (p. 156) clearly preferred death over assimilation with their Roman attackers.
The entire Islamic faith is described as "a quest for wholeness that was lost" (p. 218).
On p. 156 we see one answer to the question of how to restore a divine past, that of Rav Yohanan during Vespasian's rule: he taught that Jews could recreate their holy past not by finding a new place to perform sacrifices and rituals, but merely by studying the word of god and by acting mercifully toward all other humans.
Another answer is in part given on p. 191 when Armstrong addresses the idea that god "[took] the body" of Jesus, therefore establishing a human connection. This concept convinced millions--billions, even--that god identified with us and that it is not ridiculous for us to identify with god, as well.
Islam is described as "a realistic faith" because it gave "human beings…symbols on which to focus" (p. 221).
In fact, this is what all three of these faiths have done in one way or another, and that is why they all prevailed. Humans can't go on words alone. The connection to a physical entity of some sort is crucial to retain our attention and dedication to an idea. The "places [or things or people or pictures or WHATEVER] where god had touched our world" (p. 191) are where humans have chosen to place eternal spiritual meaning. These are the places that we revere as being able to transport us to that mystical, idealized past where we were closer to god.
So now I ask you:
Is there a myth or tradition to which you hold on because of some variation on the feeling of loss and longing and not-being-totally-whole? Why? How? What do you think about this?
Is it reasonable/practical/useful for humans to place spiritual significance on a place or thing or person and then base entire rituals and lifestyles around it? Why?
Why are we so obsessed with the past? Why do we yearn for what was when we don't even know if it ever was that way?
I think the answer to your third question depends on who you mean by "we." As we've seen throughout the book, extremist elements on both sides of the conflict often cling to history to justify their (often) violent actions. Of course, the "history" that they use is often misconstrued and misinterpreted toward a larger end. On the other hand, there are also "peaceniks" and scholars out there who are legitimately studying history in order to bring about peace. For instance, if we did not have a good grasp of history, we might not know that in the past, Jews, Muslims, and Christians all managed to coexist peacefully for a time. While we should never glide over the ugly, gruesome parts of history, such instances such as the above example have the potential to bring two adversaries closer together, rather than pushing them away. There are obviously moderates on both sides who emphasize history to justify putting Jerusalem and other places/things at the center of their sacred geographies, but I think the two extremes I mentioned are instructive as well.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely. Excellent points. I love love love the idea of using history and facts and objective common sense to solve intercultural problems (even though its rarely successful to use this method because the issues stem from irrational people who are very subjective in the way they look at the world and their adversaries). Thanks for the interesting and thoughtful comment!
ReplyDeleteLast semester I took a class about religion in American culture, and we spent a lot of time discussing "sacred" (all these holy objects/places/ideals that you talked about) vs. "profane" (everything else) and how this was a hallmark of religions everywhere. So, as to your second question, I think the answer depends on which alternate word you use. Reasonable? Without solid "facts" and "truth", probably not. Practical? Consider how many have lost their lives in the fight for Jerusalem-- definitely not. Useful? If it gives the lives of billions of people meaning and purpose each day and causes them to do good, then absolutely yes. Of course, this is not always the case. But enough of the time it is, and the loss of this faith would be the loss of life as we know it.
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