Church of the Churchless

Lost Tomb of Jesus story shows shakiness of Christianity

Sunday the Discovery Channel will broadcast a documentary, "The Lost Tomb of Jesus." James Cameron claims to have found evidence that Jesus married Mary Magdalene and fathered a son named Judah.

And that he didn't ascend bodily to heaven, since his body was buried.

Lots of Christians and scholars are in an uproar, for different reasons. Scholarly types are critical of how the archaeological evidence has been interpreted. True believers are offended that anyone would try to demolish the foundation on which Christianity is built.

For the bodily resurrection is one of the essential doctrines of the Christian Faith.

Here's what I find most interesting about all this hullabaloo: it points to how shaky Christianity really is. Cameron's documentary likely will be shown and then quickly forgotten, because he seems to be making a big deal out of not much.

But if solid evidence did come to light that Jesus wasn't who the Bible says he is—God's divine son—then two billion Christian believers would have their rug of faith ripped out from underneath them.

That's the risk when your religion is founded on an individual person rather than universal reality.

David Kuo asks why so many people are out to disprove Jesus and Christianity, while so few take on the Buddha and Buddhism. Well, David, one reason is that Buddhism does just fine without the Buddha. In Zen, even better without than with.

I like to take my spirituality with a heavy dose of science, topped with some creamy skepticism. That's how it goes down best for me.

So when I see people worshipping a man who may never have existed, about whom nothing solid is known, yet is the being upon which they depend for their eternal salvation—that strikes me as bat-shit crazy.

Imagine how scientists would react if somehow it turned out that Isaac Newton wasn't who we thought he was. Maybe his wife, or gardener, actually wrote the Principia and Newton was a fraud.

No big deal. "Newton's" laws of motion would still guide the planets around the sun. All that would change is the credit line attached to the first discoverer of those fundamental principles of the universe.

That's because science is founded on facts that are independent of any person, while Christianity is a faith personified, through and through.

No Jesus as he is claimed to be, no Christian religion. No Isaac Newton, just a yawn for the practice of science.

To my mind the lesson to be taken away from "The Lost Tomb of Jesus" is that if your conception of reality is founded on the presence or absence of some bone fragments in an ossuary, you're on really shaky existential ground.

I recommend finding firmer footing before a more reputable researcher than James Cameron leaves you in metaphysical quicksand. (In my opinion you're already there; you just don't know it yet).

Seven secret sayings of God

Just as I was sitting down to dash out a Church of the Churchless post before leaving for an Academy Awards potluck, where I will selflessly share one of the last Now & Zen Unturkey's left on earth, I got an email from a friend, Joelle.

I liked it so much, I'll share her words today instead of mine. Which leaves me free to see more of the Red Carpet arrivals. From Joelle to me to you, Alan Watts' "Seven Secret Sayings of God." I like them.

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From Joelle Martin Leath:

You know when a verse or lyric or book pops into and stays in your consciousness that you haven't thought of in years and you know it's time to pay attention? 

 I was led yesterday to remember Alan Watt's witty 'creation theory' brief and wondered where had I put the torn page? out of - which of his books was it?

 I wondered if I had included it in one of the many journals or binders on spirit-wisdom compiled through the years, or if it ended up as a bookmark in one of many hundreds of metaphysical books I have sitting on shelves, tabletops, in crates, boxes, baskets . . .

 I set the intention, tuned in and started looking through some of my binders, when I turned towards a basket of books and was led to "Spiritual Awakening" by Sant Darshan Singh, and Voila! there was Alan's page in a plastic sheath along with a photo of my late mother modeling when she was about 12 years old and a postcard of the Court of Two Sisters courtyard-restaurant in the French Quarter of New Orleans (where my sisters and I were born).....of course, all very symbolic to me.

 I had torn the sheet out of the same book, "Cloud-Hidden, Whereabouts Unknown" in 1973, that I had taken from a bookshelf just the other day, for bedtime reading.

 As it called to me, I thought you might enjoy it as well; Watts was brilliant at injecting wit and humor into deeper thought:  Alan Watts - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

 My boyfriend in Los Gatos at the time Watts wrote "Cloud Hidden" (1972-73) was his (Watts') apprentice  - - - one of our "Lights along the Way" during those years - -  in company with Yogananda, Terry Cole Whittaker, Swami SatChitAnanda, Krishnamurti, and so many masterful teachers whom we love and revere.

SEARCHING FOR THE HERMIT IN VAIN

I asked the boy beneath the pines.
He said, "The master's gone alone
Herb-picking somewhere on the mount,
Cloud-hidden, whereabouts unknown.
Chai Tao (777-841)
Trans. Lin Yutang

The Seven Secret Sayings of God
From "Cloud Hidden, Whereabouts Unknown" by Alan Watts (1972)

1. Before the beginning when God created the heaven and the earth, and the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep, God said I AM THAT. And it is so.
   
2. Also, being in eternity which is neither linear nor sequential, where all is nowever, God said, YOU MUST DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE. And it was drawn.
   
3. But, it was no dreary straight line or flat wall, for God then said, HAVE A BALL. And there was a ball, in the image whereof all stars and planets came to be formed.
   
4. Thereupon, God said, THERE ARE TWO SIDES TO EVERYTHING. And there are: the inside and the outside, the dense and the spacious, the right and the wrong, the left and the taken, for, as it is written, "One shall be taken, and the other left."
   
5. And God said, IT MUST BE IN TIME. And thereafter it was, is, and will be, for as it is written again, "As it was in the beginning is now, and ever shall be, through all ages of ages. Amen."
   
6. And forthwith, God said, SPACE IT OUT. Whereupon it came to pass that, beside this and that and now and then, there is also here and there.
   
7. And God beheld how firm a foundation this was and said unto himself, GET LOST. And there you are.

Demotivation heals my overly positive soul

After watching "The Secret," which urged me to frolic in an orgy of positivity, I felt unbalanced. So I prescribed myself fifteen minutes of negative rehab and headed over to Despair, Inc. for some demotivation.

Reading the slogan on The Pessimist's Mug got me started on the road of recovery: "This glass is now half empty." Ah, truth simply spoken.

I was sorry that, being retired, I didn't have any employee morale to crush, as "The Art of Demotivation" looked like an appealing book.

What really got me back to feeling my normal uninspired self, though, was a terrific line of demotivational posters. And Despair, Inc's. introduction to them, which resonated with my churchless soul.

MOTIVATION. Psychology tells us that motivation- true, lasting motivation- can only come from within. Common sense tells us it can't be manufactured or productized. So how is it that a multi-billion dollar industry thrives through the sale of motivational commodities and services? Because, in our world of instant gratification, people desperately want to believe that there are simple solutions to complex problems. And when desperation has disposable income, market opportunities abound.

AT DESPAIR, INC., we believe motivational products create unrealistic expectations, raising hopes only to dash them. That's why we created our soul-crushingly depressing Demotivators® designs, so you can skip the delusions that motivational products induce and head straight for the disappointments that follow!

Chortling my way through the collection with habitual cynical glee, I was back to feeling normal again. Here are some of my favorite images and sayings.

Fear.
Until you have courage to lose sight of the shore, you will not know the terror of being forever lost at sea.

Ambition.
The journey of a thousand miles sometimes ends very, very badly.

Change.
It's a short trip from riding the waves of change to being torn apart by the jaws of defeat.

Despair.
It's always darkest just before it goes pitch black.

Lastly, my favorite, because I know the joy whereof this poster speaks (thanks to all of the politicians, science-deniers, religious fundamentalists, and so many others, for making it possible).

Delusions.
There is no greater joy than soaring high on the wings of your dreams, except maybe the joy of watching a dreamer who has nowhere to land but in the ocean of reality.

My review of “The Secret” DVD points to a super-secret

Yesterday I found a free way of watching "The Secret," so immersed myself for 90 minutes in an ocean of New Age platitudes. On a pad of paper I jotted down such pearls of positive thinking wisdom as:

Thoughts become things
The Law of Attraction will give you what you want every time
What you think about, you bring about
You are the designer of your destiny
Life is meant to be abundant

The universe must have wanted me to see "The Secret." (A hugely popular book and DVD, as noted in this TIME article). But not spend $4.95 to watch online.

Which raises a criticism my wife had after watching part of the movie: instead of us choosing desires that design our destinies, it's possible that our destinies cause us to choose those desires.

Einstein quotations appeared several times in the movie. Not this one though:

Honestly I cannot understand what people mean when they talk about the freedom of the human will. I have a feeling, for instance, that I will something or other; but what relation this has with freedom I cannot understand at all. I feel that I will to light my pipe and I do it; but how can I connect this up with the idea of freedom?

What is behind the act of willing to light the pipe? Another act of willing? Schopenhauer once said, "Man can do what he wills but he cannot will what he wills."…When you mention people who speak of such a thing as free will in nature it is difficult for me to find a suitable reply. The idea is of course preposterous.

Yet not to the various spokespeople for "The Secret" who appeared in this attractively slick production. Some of them had appealing titles such as "visionary" and "metaphysician."

The hardest science type was John Hagelin, "quantum physicist." His Google results page contains a lot of "world renowned" references, which leads me to think that he isn't. He is, however, professor of physics at Maharishi University of Management, for whatever that's worth.

Not surprisingly, those 90 minutes of positivity left me feeling pretty darn positive. I liked how "The Secret" spoke about the power of the placebo effect in healing (absolutely true), and the benefit of visualization in athletic activities (also true).

And I resonated with emboldening statements such as, "When you have an inspired thought, you have to trust it. And you have to act on it." Plus, "You are the designer of your destiny. You can break free."

The question comes to mind, though: To what extent am I the designer of my destiny? Also, from what and to where am I breaking free? I'm standing beside (more accurately, behind) Einstein on my answers, which are considerably at odds with "The Secret."

Undeniably the universe is seamlessly interconnected. No one and no thing stands alone. My thoughts and actions arise from many sources: genetics, family influences, education, nature, and so much else. Indeed, everything that I've experienced during my life has helped make me the person I am now.

So the notion expressed in the movie that "Whatever you're thinking and feeling today is creating your future" masks a grander reality. What I think and feel today arises from my past. Similarly, what I think and feel tomorrow will be a product of all the preceding yesterdays, as well as the evanescent present moment.

"The Secret" would have me believe that I am a shopper with no limit on my free will credit card, capable of choosing whatever I want from the universe's catalog of possibilities. Wealth, health, love, a cool car, close-in parking space—all I have do is follow a three step ordering process:

Step 1. Ask. Let the universe know what you want. The universe is your catalog. Place the order.
Step 2. Believe. It is already yours. You don't need to know how it will come about.
Step 3. Receive. Feel the way you'll feel when it arrives.

Well, I'm often late driving through Salem to a class or appointment. I habitually think with all my might, "May all the lights be green." Occasionally they are. Can I change the pattern of the traffic signals through Ask, Believe, and Receive?

Undoubtedly there are other drivers on the cross streets who are just as late as I am. They too are asking the universe for a green light. But one of us will get a red. It has to be that way to avoid chronic intersection wrecks. Like the Rolling Stones sang, "You can't always get what you want…"

Nor should you, or I, want to. To live in an interconnected universe is to be part of a whole, not just a part. Would any of us want it any other way? If I could break free from everyone and everything in the cosmos, where would I be? And who would I be?

I don't know. But my guess is that I'd be in a lonely void, wishing (if I still had wishes) that I could return to waiting at a red light, anxiously glancing at my watch, seeing a steady stream of cars pass in front of me, feeling powerless to be on time—wonderfully part of an often frustrating, yet delightfully engaging, world that is beyond both my comprehension and my control.

"The Secret" claims to be a distillation of ageless spiritual wisdom. Not really. It's much more a justification for egocentric materialism, a New Age version of the prosperity Christianity that preaches, "God wants you to be rich!"

Images of the Buddha are shown repeatedly in the movie. I seriously doubt that someone whose teaching centered on extinguishing worldly desires would endorse "The Secret." Wanting, according to the Buddha, Lao Tzu, Plotinus, and many other sages, only leads to more wanting.

Even if the Rolling Stones are wrong, and you can always get what you want, the nature of this universe is change. Health deteriorates. Wealth declines. Parking spaces are driven away from. Green lights turn red.

I was told that "the Law of Attraction will give you what you want every time." Please, spare me this hellish possibility. After fifty-eight years of wanting and getting (along with not getting), what I'm attracted to now is the Law of Unattraction that Buddhism, Taoism, Neoplatonism, Sufism, and mystical Christianity have told me about.

That's the super secret beyond "The Secret." I'd say more about it, but it's difficult to reveal what you're still trying to discover.

All I know, or strongly suspect, is that there's more to life than wanting and getting. My happiest moments have been marked by a peace that passeth understanding. It didn't have anything to do with Jesus. Nor with, obviously, anything else understandable.

It just was. And I wanted more of it. In that wanting, I lost it. So deliver me from the Secret. Give me the Super-Secret. Yet not in a way that I can understand. Surprise me, universe, with what lies outside of wanting and getting.

(Here's another critical review of "The Secret" that I mostly agree with.)

[Next day update: Just read in Matthieu Ricard's "Happiness" that "those who believe themselves to be happiest are also the most altruistic...The interdependence of all phenomena in general, and of all people in particular, is such that our own happiness is intimately linked to that of others."

Regarding research with students: "The satisfactions triggered by a pleasant activity, such as going out with friends, seeing a movie, or enjoying a banana split, were largely eclipsed by those derived from performing an act of kindness."

In "The Secret," I can't recall a single mention of intending a good for others, rather than for ourselves. Yet even me, a selfish soul, has been known to park around the block from a meeting place when I knew others would be arriving after me, because I have no problem walking a fair distance and I know that others do.

This isn't really selflessness on my part, because I got more satisfaction from this little act of altruism than I would have from zipping into a nearby parking space.

The guy in "The Secret" who is so proud of his ability to manifest close-in parking spaces might consider whether a better intention might be, "May the universe give me what is best for all concerned."]

Servitude, sand, and satguru

Catherine's questioning of Sant Mat, including the possibly detrimental consequences of "mitti seva" (volunteers moving dirt by hand at India's Dera Baba Jaimal Singh), brought to mind the two weeks I spent at the Dera in December 1977.

"Seva" means service. Serving the guru was a big part of the daily routine both for Western visitors and Indians. While I was there, mitti seva was in full swing from about 3:30 to 5:00 in the afternoon.

In Radhasoami Reality, Mark Juergensmeyer describes the scene:

One of the most dramatic examples of ritual humiliation in Radhasoami is mitti seva, the service of dirt. At Beas, when thousands take part, the scene looks like something out of a biblical epic: thousands trudging over a levee with wicker baskets on their heads filled with mud, marching orderly lines to the edge, where they dump their loads and return for more.

The dust in the air gives a gauzy, surreal quality to the panorama, especially from the vantage point of a nearby cliff, where Master Charan Singh sits, dressed in immaculate white and shielded by a temporary awning as he oversees the whole affair.

The devotees carrying the dirt—including businessmen in smudged white shirts and housewives in soiled saris—affirm that they are not only helping the master's construction projects; they are learning something about submission, humility, and service.

I dug out some old photos that I took while mitti seva'ing. Not so brilliantly, I'd written captions on the back of the prints in ink that rubbed off when the photos went back in their storage boxes. Hence, the extraneous smudges and specks.

As Juergensmeyer says, all sorts of people are mixed together in this communal act of service to the satguru (true guru). A South African is on the right (using a non-traditional cloth add-on to keep sand out of his eyes; the baskets are somewhat porous). The Indian girl on the left is carrying a pot full of sand that's just her size.

All eyes are on the master, whenever he's visible (in this photo, on the top of the slope, right of center).

The guru, Charan Singh, would use mitti seva time to go through his mail, read newspapers, or talk with disciples—as he's doing here.

Sometimes the sand would get poured into large ravines to create more usable land. From this dumping off point a solid line of people, about eight abreast, extends to the sand pits. I wrote on this photo, "Shows how great tasks can be accomplished by everyone working together and doing a small share."

An alternative destination for the sand was flatland nearer the Beas river. The man on the left was from Florida. Westerners rarely looked as comfortable as the Indians. But then, we're not used to carrying heavy loads on our heads.

At the end of the trail this elderly gentleman would point with his walking stick at where he wanted the sand dumped. I wrote, "This will be a road across marshland."

I enjoyed my mitti seva. It seemed a minor miracle to me that I never got sand in my contact lenses, given how much dirt drifted down across my face during my basket carrying stints.

I was deeply devoted to the guru back then. It seemed a privilege to be able to do something tangible for him, especially while he was right there, watching from a ridge-top. I was happy to be a das. Juergensmeyer says:

In India, the most common word for someone in servitude is das, which means both "servant" and "slave." Oddly (to Western preconceptions) many dases actually cherish being called a slave, but servitude of a certain sort is valued precisely because hierarchy is taken so seriously.

It is a great honor to be placed on a hierarchical scale with God, even if only as his servant. And in Radhasoami, one is given ample opportunity to serve the Lord directly, since He is close at hand [in the guise of the guru].

From my current perspective, there's the rub: hierarchy. It's tough to be truly humble and self-effacing when you've got the attitude, "I'm doing what God wants and He's watching me, pleased with my dusty service."

This wasn't evident to me at the time, immersed as I was in my unquestioning true belief. However, yesterday I felt a more genuine sense of "seva," and there wasn't a guru or god around.

Just me and a slope full of deer food that my wife had mistakenly planted last year. The brassica and purple topped turnip needed to be pulled up before their invasive roots could spread further across an area that we wanted to keep natural.

I enjoyed my deer food-removal seva just as much as the mitti seva thirty years ago. Yet my service didn't feel like it was directed toward anyone or anything in particular.

Crouching down on increasingly aching knees, yanking resistant root after root from the clay ground, getting pricked by dead blackberry vines (the invasive plant that we'd removed before unknowingly planting another invasive plant), I was feeling good.

What I was doing needed to be done. The earth was going to be a better place for it (the deer might disagree, but for aesthetic and environmental reasons the deer food had to be pulled up). I didn't feel any need to personalize my semi-selfless service by aiming it in a particular direction.

"I'm doing this for you, _____." How could I fill in the blank? Yet back in 1977, if I'd asked my fellow mitti sevadars who they were toting sand for, virtually everyone would have said, "the guru, my beloved Charan Singh."

It's wonderful to serve God, guru, grandparents, anybody. I just increasingly resonate with what Pascal (along with Voltaire, Augustine, and others) said about the almighty:

God is a circle whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere.

Another source quotes Pascal as saying:

Nature is an infinite sphere of which the center is everywhere and the circumference nowhere.

God, nature, Tao, primal existence, space-time continuum, Buddha nature, whatever you want to call it…something seems to be omnipresent and worthy of a sentiment akin to reverence, since without that foundation of essential being nothing else could be.

When we narrow our reverential focus to a particular person, place, or creed, the center of the cosmos now is somewhere rather than everywhere, and its circumference is bounded rather than limitless.

Understand: I'm not saying there's anything wrong with particulars. However, if the whole isn't more than the sum of its parts, a whole lot of philosophizing (and science) has gone to waste.

So I'm not keen now on being the servant of a god-man or woman. Directing my spirit of service in a certain hierarchical direction strikes me as limiting. I used to enjoy the idea that God had directed my guru to take me under his wing, which made me two steps removed from the highest divinity. Cool!

And, more than a little egotistical. The servant of a king puffed up with the pride of reflected glory. There's some of that look in the photos I've shared. I know, because I remember how the photographer felt when he was taking them.

No masters, no servants. No above, no below. No pride, no humility.

The older I get, nothing comes to seem more appealing than something.

Some South African Sant Mat questioning

Here's some thoughts from Catherine, all the way from South Africa. Like me, she's a Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) initiate. Also like me, she's come to look upon this faith with fresh eyes.

I've shared several of her email messages below. They've been mildly edited, mostly to correct a few typos and inject some explanatory links. I've also generally Americanized her English, to keep my spell checker happy.

Many people who read this blog are familiar with the RSSB philosophy and practices. Many others aren't. I realize that some of what Catherine writes about will elicit a huh? from the latter group.

But the broad issues she addresses should be of interest to everybody concerned with being churched vs. churchless; with accepting religious authority vs. choosing for oneself; with remaining firm on a chosen path vs. meandering off to greener pastures.

Click on the continuation link to read Catherine.

When pushing hands, or minds, relax the tension

There's a lot of pushing on this blog, as elsewhere on the Internet. People read something they don't like. They push back. The pushed take affront and return the favor.

And so it goes. That's life. It's natural to resist having our psychological space invaded. Nestled comfortably in the four walls of my beliefs, someone bursts in and starts sledge hammering.

Hey! Stop, you stupid fuckhead! Got to defend the territory.

Some recent Church of the Churchless comments have been directed at seemingly overly aggressive language by a blog visitor who would go unnamed if I didn't mention that his moniker is "Tao."

It's true that Tao isn't shy about blasting away with word-weapons. But here's a suggestion about how to handle pushiness, whether in cyberspace or physical space: relax. Accept the incoming with little tension, then redirect it without losing your own center.

This is Tai Chi 101. Also, I'd say, Handling Life's Irritants 101. When we tense up and try to muscle our way through a confrontation, whether mental or physical, we'll likely find ourselves being thrown off balance. I know this even though I'm just a couple of years into my Tai Chi practice, after a much longer stint with hard style martial arts.

"Push hands" is done with a partner, as contrasted with Tai Chi forms, which are played individually (Tai Chi practitioners typically say "play" instead of "perform," a reflection of the relaxed Taoist sensibility that pervades this art).

One of the first things I learned when pushing hands is that tensing up offers the other person a marvelous means of manipulating me. If I extend an arm and it's grabbed by my partner, he can use it to throw me every which way if I keep it rigidly connected to my body.

But if I relax and empty the muscular tension, there's little left that's substantial to grab onto any more. A skilled Tai Chi master seems to "disappear" when force is used against him. He knows how to blend with someone else's energy, using the principle of flexible power to dissipate a threat.

Until we're challenged by another person, it's difficult to know where our tension—physical or psychological—is being held. This is why pushing hands with a partner is an important Tai Chi practice. Playing a form on my own, it's easy for me to believe that I'm centered, balanced, grounded.

When I'm stumbling backward after a push hands drill has revealed the flaws in my Tai Chi ability, self-deception has no place to hide.

Likewise, engaging in vigorous philosophical or religious debate helps us better understand the strengths and weaknesses of our position. Teeth-gritting tension usually means that we're trying to hold on to a belief that isn't truly a part of us (if it was, we wouldn't be worried that someone else could take it away).

After Laurel and I were married sixteen years ago, we spent many hours discussing our spiritual beliefs. Laurel wasn't reluctant to challenge the Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB) party line that I parroted back then.

I found that I could comfortably handle her skepticism about many RSSB articles of faith. But some of her questions struck a nerve. The ouch! I felt when she challenged certain tenets was, looking back from my current perspective, a symptom of my nascent churchlessness.

That is, my metaphysical tender spots were pointers to the beliefs that I had the least confidence in. Yet I defended them with remarkable vigor. I must have sensed that these were the weak spots in my fundamentalist armor.

You want to know why I believe that my guru is God in human form? You want evidence? Well, this isn't something that can be demonstrated rationally. It's a mystical thing. You understand it from within…Have I gotten such an understanding? No, I haven't. But other people have. How do I know that? Um, I just believe that they have, because I trust them…So you're saying that my RSSB faith is just like that of a Christian or Muslim, since I'm claiming that such and such is true without any evidence. Well, you're wrong! It's not….Stop asking me why. It just isn't! Let's stop talking and watch TV.

Thankfully, I'm not that rigid anymore. If anything, Laurel thinks that I've gone overboard in the other direction. I'm so flexible in my beliefs (or lack of them), I won't fight in the argument ring for hardly any spiritual position now. "Maybe," I'll say. "Or maybe not. Who knows? Certainly not me."

I'm pleased that much of the tension I used to feel is no longer there. But who knows? Maybe it was necessary for me to have my vulnerable belief areas exposed and become aware of how strongly I felt the need to defend them. This helped me realize that little was supporting the beliefs other than my hope that they were true.

So tension isn't always bad, if it leads to a letting go when the strain of maintaining an untenable position becomes too much to bear.

But usually it's better to relax when pushing hands, or minds. The Tao Te Ching shows the Way:

Yield and overcome;
Bend and be straight;
Empty and be full;
Wear out and be new:
Have little and gain;
Have much and be confused.

Therefore wise men embrace the one
And set an example to all.
Not putting on a display,
They shine forth.
Not justifying themselves,
They are distinguished.
Not boasting,
They receive recognition.
Not bragging,
They never falter.
They do not quarrel.
So no one quarrels with them.
Therefore the ancients say, "Yield and overcome."
Is that an empty saying?
Be really whole,
And all things will come to you.

Morality isn’t what God wants

Here's a thought-provoking passage from Plato's "Euthyphro" that you can throw into your next coffeehouse conversation about the meaning of life (you do have them, don't you?). Socrates says:

The point which I should first wish to understand is whether the pious or holy is beloved by the gods because it is holy, or holy because it is beloved of the gods.

This is the Euthyphro dilemma. I ran across it for the first time while reading "The Top 10 Myths About Evolution." The authors, Cameron M. Smith and Charles Sullivan, were making the point that morality is a natural inclination of humans, not something imposed by divine command.

It's sort of difficult for me to fathom which side of the Euthyphro dilemma Plato comes down on. Guess that's why it's called a dialogue rather than a monologue.

But wiser minds than mine (namely, the collective wisdom of Wikipedia) say that Socrates demonstrates the absurdity of holding that something is good because it is beloved by God (or all the gods, if you're a polytheist). As Smith and Sullivan say:

The problem with this view is that whether an action is wrong (or right) becomes completely arbitrary. God could have said that killing and stealing are morally right, and then those actions would be morally right.

Of course, this whole question of whether God loves what is already holy, or makes it holy by loving it, presumes that a God exists. To my mind that resolves the Euthyphro dilemma right off the bat, since there's no evidence of God. Case closed by virtue of irrelevancy.

However, supposed God substitutes do exist. Gurus, priests, clergy, imams, and other religious authorities claim that they know what God wants us to do. Holy books, the same.

So it's worth considering whether Socrates gets the better of the argument. I think he does. The notion that whatever God (or his stand in) wants is okay to do makes morality a matter of divine whim. It leads to crazed fundamentalists flying planes into buildings and devotees drinking poison-laced Kool-Aid.

In my case, it led me to not drink even a drop of alcohol (aside from a single lapse at a high school reunion) for more than thirty years. The guru who initiated me back in 1971 prohibited the imbibing of alcoholic beverages. So I took the non-Socratic route, viewing this command as worthy of being obeyed not because it made moral sense, but because it had been commanded.

With more than a little chagrin, I remember going to an artsy function during my fully devoted days and running into a fellow Radha Soami Satsang Beas initiate. He was holding a wine glass in his hand. I looked at him as if he were wearing the Devil's horns.

Not outwardly—I understood the need to maintain an air of detached "Hi, nice to see you." But inwardly I thought, "Oh my, another fallen soul."

And now I am one, having just taken a sip of my nearly-nightly glass of red wine, which I've concluded confers enough antioxidant and coronary benefits to warrant breaking my 1971 vow of abstinence (along with my first wife, I've also broken our 1970 vow of "till death do us part"; moral conceptions change, along with marriage partners).

Looking back, what surprises me is how fully I bought into Euthyphro's flawed view of piety:

Piety, then, is that which is dear to the gods, and impiety is that which is not dear to them.

Socrates points out this would mean that the gods get some benefit from certain actions or beliefs. They are made more "dear" by piety and seemingly disturbed by impiety. But if a god (or guru) is perfect, how could this being be affected by what someone does or doesn't do?

I used to believe that I'd let my guru down if I had a sip of wine, or failed to put in every minute of the time that I was supposed to devote to meditation every day. I should have read "Euthyphro" earlier (though it wouldn't have made an impression on me during my fundamentalist period).

Now I resonate with the scientifically-minded Smith and Sullivan. Morality isn't imposed from outside. It springs from within.

We're left with morality being independent of God in the same way that arithmetic and logic are independent of God…But notice that, because morality is independent of God, we can recognize the same reasons for not killing and not stealing that God recognizes [again, assuming that God exists], although our thinking is certainly slower.

We recognize the irreversible harm caused by killing as a reason not to kill, and we recognize the unfairness of stealing as a reason not to steal.

Because morality is independent of God, both the believer and the nonbeliever are in the same boat when it comes to making moral choices. So we can see that one does not have to believe in God in order to be a genuinely moral person.

Beneath buckets of thought, a formless thinking pool

Taoism shuns thoughts, while adoring thinking. Flowing along further with Thomas Cleary’s Taoist Meditation, a focus of my previous post, here’s some additional Taoist sentiments.

Thinking about the Way is correct; thinking about things is error. The Way is inherent in us; when you think about the Way inherent within us, thinking itself is the Way…Thinking is a door of entry into the Way, whereas thoughts are roots of obstruction of the Way.

“I think, therefore I am.” Cogito ergo sum. As noted before, Descartes had this much right. If he’d stopped with his Meditations at this point in his philosophizing, who could argue with him?

Thinking, in the Taoist (and Cartesian) sense of consciousness without thoughts, is the root of who we are. Prior to a thought is…something. Undefined, murky, elusive, yet marvelously aware.

The Great Way is formless; the Universe is the Way with form…There is nothing in the world but one mind. Stirring thoughts create all objects. If thoughts are not produced, objects are spontaneously gone. When you thoroughly examine stirring thoughts, thoughts too are empty and silent. So we know there is nothing lost when deluded and nothing gained when enlightened, because the true mind not dwelling on anything neither increases nor decreases.

I spend some meditation time every day looking into a well. A deep well. Could even be a bottomless well. Not only that, very possibly it has no sides either. Can’t be sure. Haven’t plumbed its depths yet, nor its circumference.

Closing my eyes, darkness. Stopping thoughts (even for a moment), emptiness. And yet, there’s a thinking-rope that connects it all: the depths, the thoughts, the awareness.

Out of the dark pool of consciousness comes a thought. It jumps into a bucket of cognition and is raised to the surface, where I peruse it. Bucket after bucket, thought after thought, attention stays concentrated on what emerges from the mysterious dark pool.

Our real nature is spiritual and most subtle; when thoughts stir it flies off, invisible. If you want to stabilize it, you must look into the source…Just let there be uncovered openness above the stabilized mind and groundless vastness below the stabilized mind. Old habits dissolve, new habits are not created; not bound or obstructed by anything, you get out of the net of the world.

Not so easy to do as to say, though. That uncovered openness and groundless vastness is so damn unsettling. I’m used to occupying myself with a discrete job: hauling up the buckets, then lowering them again to pick up another interesting thought.

When I try to slippery slide my way straight down the thinking rope, I get close to the formless pool. Dipping my toe in feels good. Further submerged, even better. But sinking totally below the surface…difficult to do. Some part of me keeps getting caught on a rising thought bucket. Up I go again.

Better remind myself of the Taoist diving instructions.

As soon as you notice a thought arise, immediately extinguish it; arrest thoughts as they arise, in order to make your mind peaceful and quiet.

Next, even though you may not obviously have any obsessions, still floating, wandering, random thoughts are also to be extinguished.

Work diligently day and night, never giving up for a moment; but only extinguish the stirring mind, do not extinguish the shining mind.

Disappear into the empty mind; do not disappear into the possessive mind.

Do not dwell on any thing and the mind will be stable.

This method is mysterious, with benefits that are very profound. Unless you already have affinity for the Way and have undivided faith in it, you cannot really appreciate it.

Religion asks us to have faith in something. Taoist faith, mystical faith, spiritual faith—this is faith in nothing. Which could turn out to be everything. But until all the somethings go, the nothing that could be everything hides around the thing-corner.

Views of person and self are certainly thoughts, but so are views of attachment to religion, and these must be eliminated too.

…Noncontrivance means not musing or mulling. Though you may act in the midst of love, desire, anger, accumulation, gain, and loss, be always uncontrived.

Even when involved in things, be always unconcerned.

If you concentrate totally, moreover, clarify your mind and purify your will, nourish your energy and make your spirit complete, you will drift into the land of freedom and enter the village of nothing-whatsoever.

…It is all a matter of making space the place you store your mind, using abstruse silence as the place you rest your spirit.

There’s plenty of room in the cosmos’ maxi-storage center. They say it’s easy to find. Just scoot straight down the thinking rope. When you reach the end, let go. And do what comes naturally.

In quiet sitting, whether or not there is a specific process, you should not cling to form…This is called drawing a snake with legs on it; you will bring trouble on yourself.

When we look into the source of this problem, we find it can be attributed to one’s own fixation, inflexibility, and habituation to biased views.

…Practicing the Way is cultivating and nurturing the Way of nature, the natural course.

Sounds easy. Just erase those legs on the snake.

Comic strip and a Chinese sage both say: “Do it!”

When in doubt, don’t doubt. Unless you’re sure you want to doubt. Then doubt ferociously.

Life is meant to be lived full throttle. Which can mean being absolutely still. Or, rocketing across the salt flats.

Turning to one of my favorite sources of inspiration, Funny Times, I came across this “Maxine” comic in the February 2007 issue. My heart said, yes.
(click on the image to enlarge)

Confusion, indecision, uncertainty: that’s part of life. But we magnify that part when we fail to recognize what we already know. In the sphere of spirituality, that counts for a lot.

Indeed, it could be argued: for everything. There are no recognized experts when it comes to God, the hereafter, what may exist apart from matter. If you believe someone knows more than you in this regard, you may be right. But you’ll never know it.

So, trust yourself. You’ll never find a more reliable companion on the spiritual path. As Maxine’s creator, Marian Henley, tells us, the center of our self—heart—is screaming to be heard.

Marian wears the yin-yang symbol in her web site photos. Indeed, there’s a Taoist sensibility in her comics, such as this one.

As there is, not surprisingly, in Thomas Cleary’s Taoist Meditation. The unknown Chinese author of “The Cultivation of Realization” also tells us to do it. Now.

People all say that after sixty you age year by year; after seventy, you age month by month; after eighty, you age day by day. I am more than eighty years old—now what? From now on, each day I live is a day lent by Heaven for the Way—how dare I waste it? Even if I attain the Way right now, it is already late—how could it be admissible to delay any further?

A long time ago three elders were talking about impermanence. One elder said, “Of those who attend this year’s party, who knows who will be missing next year.” Another elder said, “What you’re talking about is far away. When we take off our shoes and socks tonight, we don’t know whether we will put them on again tomorrow.”The third elder said, “What you’re talking about is still remote. When we exhale this breath, we don’t know if we will breathe in again.”

The wise do not lose time, the brave do not think twice. If you get to know the Way today, you should set to work this very day; when you know, that is when to start. If you say you do not have the leisure today and will wait for another day, I’m afraid that when you want to do it you won’t be able to anymore.

Sant Mat looks like a religion

Sam emailed me today from the United Kingdom. He has an interesting perspective on Sant Mat and Radha Soami Satsang Beas (RSSB), looking as he does from the outside rather than as a true believer.

Myself, I’m sort of in the middle. I used to be a true believer and so can’t say that I’m able to view Sant Mat and RSSB from as detached a position as Sam can. So I found his ideas interesting. He left them as a comment to a post, which I’ve copied (and mildly edited) below.

He makes some excellent points. Even in the days when I did little critical questioning of Sant Mat, I wondered why this spiritual-mystical path that came down so hard on the foibles of traditional religions had so many practices that seemed decidedly religious.

A “church” leader and hierarchy. Sunday “sermons.” Chanting of “hymns.” Designated “preachers.” Approved “holy books.” Articles of faith that comprised a “theology.”

If something waddles and has webbed feet, yet quacks “I’m not a duck,” I’m more inclined to trust what my senses tell me than the verbal denial. Sam points out the truth: that RSSB and Sant Mat are firmly rooted in the Sikh, Hindu, and Muslim religious traditions of northern India.

Claims of being a universal spiritual science to a large extent are belied by this firm connection to religious teachings of a particular place and time. This by itself doesn’t make Sant Mat true or false; it just is something to be considered.

Here’s Sam's message:

Hi, I am familiar with sant mat as I have a friend who is a follower of this path. I find it a bit mind boggling but am open to hear all your views, which are very interesting. My friend can’t usually answer all my questions, and usually gets in a rut and starts to get agitated and angry. I can’t see why, but it does throw most of the characteristics one is suppose to adhere to on this path out of the window.

Firstly I would like to know that in this discussion a name has been mentioned: “Faqir Chand.” Is he based in the UK and supposed to be some type of head or authority based near the southern centre Haynes? [A Radha Soami Satsang Beas center in England] If so I know of him too, or is this another based somewhere else?

[Note from Brian: Sam, Faqir Chand died in 1981. He’s been called the “unknowing sage” because even though many considered him a guru, he openly admitted that he didn’t possess divine powers. More info. about him can be found here, here, and here.]

I like to hear critics’ views of this path as it helps in understanding and analysing this path without being biased and deciding whether this spiritual way is a true light to salvation and not some farce, that is dictated with blind followers, unable to rationalize with basic logic, and leaders who may be encompassed by some deceitful gain of power or money.

I have read the posts on peeing, which I find quite absurd, as one should be freely able to attend to one’s call of nature without being labeled or drawn attention to by sevadars [volunteers]. This should be brought to the attention of, with sevadars being most helpful for such that are in need.

I've also read another post in which one cannot take photos of the master, and of the incident in which a photographer was forced to hand over his film! Why are they allowed to take his photo? For security? None of his photos or dialogues are to be recorded? Why?

This is strange when you see many satsang devotees with huge full size images in every room of their houses! Why are these photos allowed? And they are full blown clear professional works of art! Do the masters’ photos have to be certified before they get released?

Then why do devotees have these photos hung everywhere? I thought this spiritual path was devoid of any form of idolizing. Be it a picture, clay statue or in whatever image form is this not an open avenue to idolize, and to start revering? If one says we do not idolize these, the masters’ photos, then what is the purpose of these images?

This brings me to another point in that I see this path orientated towards sikhism, with a bit of hinduism / christianity and islam all in one.

I thought that this path was supposed to be void of religious symbols and outward appearance. In a few books I have read it criticizes other faiths that have outward appearances and makes the note that this is pointless and that god must be found within, and is free from all such forms of religious expressions, that we are all the same and not in the need thereof, and we should pursue internal realisation to rid ourselves of this.

I just cannot then comprehend that why does the master and previous masters adhere to external symbols of the turban, beard, which are expressions of the sikh faith. Ok, we are not asked to follow suit but then I believe a master should be a perfect example of his teachings. Is this not contrary to the teachings? Or is this to lure devotees under a banner of no religion, but really its sikhism of another form? I would like to know why is this necessary at all?

Then there is the slogan “all religions are man made”, as if to say this is not a religion, it is a spiritual path. I see this just as a meddling with words that hold no weight. I hear you can be of any faith and don't have to change to be on this path, but the underlying factor in most beliefs of faiths is that you do have to change, and you have to change some fundamental cores of one's religion to accommodate this spiritual path, which would class one as a heretic and out of bounds of one’s prior beliefs.

So what is religion?
What is the definition of religion?
Isn't religion a set of rules/laws with values that ones adheres to, maybe performing some rituals in order to achieve salvation?

If you have a set of rules/laws, say in the torah/bible/quran, that say you must do this and that, and not do this and that, with respective rituals in each of their temples of worship, is this the definition therefore of a religion?

Then what of the rules/laws that we have to abide by in the sant mat path, with rituals of meditation, doing service etc? If you look at it, it can be clearly classified as a religion or am I missing something?

Well these are a few points. I could go on and on. I don’t hope to offend anyone in the above and hope sincerely I haven’t, but would just like to be able to question and answer my natural reasoning.

Sam welcomes responses to his message. If you feel like it, comment away.

The metaphysics of a really shitty job

I spent six hours this weekend pulling disintegrated insulation out of the crawl space above our garage. There are difficult jobs. There are nasty jobs. And then there are really shitty jobs. Like what I just did.

Serendipity is perusing the comments on your blog and finding just what you need to give a boost of profundity to the post you were planning to write. Thank you, Edward, for the Richard Feynman quote:

"A poet once said "The whole universe is in a glass of wine." We will probably never know in what sense he meant that, for poets do not write to be understood. But it is true that if we look at a glass closely enough we see the entire universe."

Hopefully also if we look closely enough at a crawl space full of disintegrated insulation that needs to be disposed of. And at other sorts of jobs that lead the brain to scream, What the holy fuck am I doing here!?

That cry of despair was particularly strong yesterday, when I clambered up the drop-down folding stairs in our thirty-five year old garage to begin the Job from Hell.

Our detached garage/carport is getting an earthquake renovation. Supporting lumber needs to be “sistered” to the joists in the crawl space. The contractor told me, “The insulation has to come out. We’ll be back Monday.” “No problem,” I said, with what was, in retrospect, ridiculous overconfidence.

My first problem yesterday was simply seeing. A squirrel had electrocuted itself on top of our power pole. Nonetheless, I needed to get going on the insulation disposal job.

Rainsuit with tight cuffs. Fifty garbage bags. Dust mask. Rake for difficult to reach spots. Gloves. Flashlight. Battery powered lantern. “Glasses” with LED beams. I was ready to go.

But it didn’t take long for me to realize that I wasn’t ready for a stygian nightmare. Gloomy shadows. Stale air. Clouds of thirty-five year old dust, decomposed insulation, mouse poop, and god knows what else rising into the unventilated crawl space every time I touched the unholy mess that covered the spaces between the joists.

Dreams of Hantavirus Pulmonary Syndrome danced through my head.

I’d like to say “the worst part was…” But there were so many worst parts, it’s hard to choose.

Pulling on a piece of insulation and having it disintegrate into many fragments, each of which had to be picked up and stuffed into a garbage bag. Crawling my six foot, 185 pound body under the low sloping roof edge, perched on a piece of wood to avoid going through the sheetrock, reaching out half-blindly with the rake, only to find the insulation caught on one of the 2x4 crosspieces that for some inexplicable reason had been nailed between the joists every two feet (undoubtedly with the intention of driving me insane several decades later). Hitting my head on a rafter and/or roofing nail. Pushing around the large pieces of plywood that our crap had been stored on before we’d laboriously hauled it down the stairway to hell earlier in the week.

There was a moment on Saturday of near-panic. Scrunched under the lowest part of the roof, immersed in a dark dust cloud that wasn’t being totally filtered through my mask, already tired and frustrated with the shitty job less than 10% completed, I thought, “I can’t do this. I just can’t. It’s too awful.”

And yet… (Isn’t it wonderful how life always offers up an “and yet”?) I didn’t know how to find an illegal alien for hire on the weekend. The guys from Paragon Construction were expecting the insulation to be out by Monday. I was still capable of moving. I hate to ask for help when I don’t really need it just as much as I hate to ask for directions when I do.

So I tossed the few bags I’d filled down the folding stairs. Took a shower. Went to our tango class. Got lattes with my wife afterward. Went to Lowes. Bought a better N95 particulate mask. And longer gloves.

Went to sleep envisioning a new and improved plan of attack on that goddamn insulation (which, strangely, was installed in an unheated garage; again, surely as part of some cosmic plan to drive me insane thirty-five years after the construction was complete).

New day. New attitude. Laurel kept saying, “Why don’t we just call someone on Monday, have them do the work, and tell Paragon they’ll have to put off finishing the work?” Hah! No way.

In our tango class I’d just been told by the female instructor, “Guys, have more of an attitude! Take control. Lead! Make your partner do what you want her to.” I wasn’t about to let Laurel talk me out of climbing back up into the crawl space and bending that fucking insulation to my macho whim.

With a Taoist edge. Today I started off mellow. Gazing through my new eye protection (clear swim goggles), perched on my new insulation collection platform (decided to push around the plywood for a firmer base of attack), breathing better through a respirator with a valve, I sent out love to the insulation.

Gently, gently, ever so gently, I’d pick up a piece and put it in a garbage bag. Keeping down the dust. Breathing regularly. Taking my time. Slowly, grasshopper.

Worked for a while. I realized that this job, shitty though it was, could be managed. I had a choice: to make the best of it, or the worst of it. I had the choice. No one else. I was on my own in that crawlspace. No illegal alien was going to materialize miraculously to rescue me. Nor was my wife going to be of any help, allergy prone as she is.

It was me and the insulation. Well, since the insulation was unconscious, it really was just me up there. How the rest of the shitty job day went was going to be up to me.

I had my ups and downs. After a few hours, I hit the dark night of insulation removal. I still wasn’t halfway done. Getting into the low spots was ticking me off even more than before. I’d hit my head on the roof beams so many times, I stopped saying “Ouch!” There wasn’t anybody else around to hear me. I got tired of speaking the obvious to myself.

Then I hit the sweet spot: a mini (or micro) satori. I was in the zone. I stopped thinking, “This is shitty.” Or, “This is fine.” It was both. And neither. I was just doing what I had to do.

It didn’t matter that my legs hurt, I was thirsty, my water bottle had rolled under a piece of plywood that I didn’t feel like moving, there were still three rows of insulation-filled joists to deal with. As strange as it may sound, I was quasi-blissful.

I’d hit the bottom of a really shitty job. It didn’t feel so much like I’d bounced, but rather that the bottom wasn’t there anymore. Or the top—where I’d tried to stay during my brief Taoist “got to flow with it” phase. It was just what it was, as New Agey clichéd as that sounds.

By 3:30 pm I was done. Right at Super Bowl kickoff time. I had enough energy left to do my usual athletic club workout. Saw the end of the first half at the club. Have managed to not learn the score up until now. Time to fast forward through my DVR recording, focusing on the commercials (usually the best part of the game).

I promised the metaphysics of really shitty jobs in the title to this post. I’m not sure if I delivered. Which is, I hope, an indication that I have.

You can try to find meaning in a really shitty job. Or, a lack of meaning. Same applies to God, religion, salvation, the hereafter, and all that. But in the end, there’s just what is. Dust. Garbage bags. Decomposed insulation. And…an unwatched Super Bowl game.

That’s enough. More than enough.

Global warming and God’s will

The science is settled. Global warming is happening. Humans are very likely the cause. “Very likely” means with 90 percent certainty, according to the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. That’s up from “likely” in the panel’s 2001 report.

You can bet that the next report will say “extremely likely.” Unfortunately, scientific near-certainties get muddied up when theological guesses are thrown in.

I like to listen to conservative talk radio. Hearing gibberish makes me appreciate truth more, just as a string of cloudy Oregon days produces an Ah! when the sun finally comes out.

This week I’ve heard both Michael Savage and Victoria Taft (a local Portland talk show host) say, either directly or indirectly, that global warming is God’s will. Humans shouldn’t have the gall to believe that they can change it. Got to go with the divine flow, even if this means embracing catastrophe.

Crazy. I’m pretty sure Savage and Taft would go to a doctor if they broke a bone. Isn’t that interfering with God’s will? Every self-initiated action should be heresy according to this nonsensical theology. Including hosting a talk show.

Ah, but the doctrine of theistic science says that it is possible to sort out what is God’s will and what isn’t, thereby adding in a healthy supplement of divine revelation to the degrading scientific stew of hypothesizing, observing, experimenting, and communicating naturalistically.

A Swedenborg inspired version of dualistic theistic science holds that God manages every detail of two domains, the natural and the spiritual world. You can’t discover how this happens, but the truth is “transmitted through scientific revelations that are extracted from the literal sentences of Sacred Scripture.”

Like, the Old and New Testaments. So just as George Orwell said in Animal Farm that “all animals are equal but some are more equal than others,” fundamentalists would have us believe that everyone is subject to God’s will, but some people know what this is and some don’t.

Because those special ones have faith in the literal words of the Bible. Or Koran. Or some other supposedly incontrovertible book of revelation. Of course, you have to pick the right revelation, since holy books don’t agree on what God’s plan for us is.

I guess you have to trust that God’s plan for you includes putting you on the right course to figuring out God’s plan, sort of like needing to trust that a GPS device is well-designed before having confidence in the route its telling you to take.

The problem, though, is that you get quick feedback from a GPS device. If it doesn’t get you to where you want to go, you know something is wrong with it. Revelation, on the other hand, isn’t open to being tested. You’ve got to take it on faith, trusting that after death all will be revealed.

Bullshit. That’s my one word assessment of theistic science, even though I’m entirely open to the possibility that reality includes more than the physical. What I can’t accept is confusing two distinct conceptions about the natural world. These are nicely described in a book I’m reading (and enjoying), “The Top 10 Myths About Evolution.”

This view, called philosophical naturalism, rejects the existence of anything that can’t be explained—at least in principle—by natural laws or by purely natural methods of investigation. Philosophical naturalists deny that there can be such things as immortal souls, angels, and even God, since none of these can be investigated scientifically.

Some ID [intelligent design] proponents claim that if we rely strictly on the natural methods of science, we’re forced to deny the existence of souls, angels, and God. But this is not the case. All that’s required of scientists is that they recognize that science is limited to using natural methods and natural explanations for what it studies.

This view is called methodological naturalism, and it has nothing at all to say about things that can’t be investigated using natural methods, such as souls, angels, or God.

Except, of course, when true believers claim that a divine being is intervening in natural processes. Then science does have a role to play in debunking religious dogma, as noted in my “Does God exist? Science says no” post.

How humans are causing global warming has been accurately modeled mathematically. No extra God factor required. Yet this doesn’t stop the religiously-minded from seeing global warming as part of God’s plan for the world. We’re told not to worry about climate change because “God’s still up there.”

The Rapture Index creeps me out. In large part it’s based on “the worse things get, the nearer prophecy is to being fulfilled.” Global weather change is part of the Rapture Index’s Prophetic Top 10. This helps explain why many fundamentalists are so opposed to taking steps to deal with human-caused global warming.

Bring on the catastrophes, they believe. Jesus will soon follow. (Fortunately, eco-evangelists are providing a countervailing balance to the fundies.)

The bottom line for me is that nature is natural. If there’s something transcending the material world, it figures that God would be godly. Why conflate the two? Global warming, like evolution, can be explained by purely physical processes. Theology has noting to do with climate change.

Heck, even Pat Robertson has come to accept the reality of global warming. It’s good to see a little light entering closed minds.