
South African sunset, photo by Wade Jones.
My
final post on my blog “Progressive Christian Reflections” will occur on June
30, 2021. More
than ten years of posts will remain available to you on the blogsite, https://chrisglaser.blogspot.com and I encourage you to
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I
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Thank you for your interest, comments, correspondence, and contributions. I am
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Today’s
post appeared on July 20, 2016:
Months
ago I mentioned on this blog that I had finally picked up Karen Armstrong’s
book, A History of God: The 4000-Year
Quest of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam. Perhaps reflective of our desire
for theological ignorance, I found it discounted on the remainder table at my
neighborhood Barnes & Noble.
I
must admit that, at times, I have been slogging through it, sometimes even
setting it aside for days at a time. But I read all such books in the context
of my morning prayers, hoping for inspiration along the way, so I just read a
portion each day. The book is well-written and comprehensive, but overwhelming
in its detailing of our fitful attempts to “know” God. Right now I’m flailing
in the chapter on the Enlightenment and actually looking forward to next
chapter’s “The Death of God?” Whew, what a relief after all this kvetching!
(Apparently, making God a product of reason makes him/her/they more easily
dispensable or at least optional. Stay tuned.)
Of course I’ve read other
books on the history of religion, but there were many surprises and aha’s for
me in this book.
Armstrong
not only writes of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, but also of Hinduism and
Buddhism, though to a lesser extent. What surprised me is how various religions
often paralleled and sometimes informed one another’s trains of thought. Given
our contemporary insistence on religious divisions, I found it consoling that
there are historically points of agreement and sometimes civil disagreement.
There
are also periods of dysfunctional fighting within and among religions, and
though each have suffered their unfair share of persecution and unpopularity,
it seems to me that Jews got the worst of it, long before the Shoah, or
Holocaust. Made me more sympathetic to the raison
d’être of the state of Israel.
What struck me also is
that all religions have had their intelligentsia—their philosophers and
academics and scientists—which has helped shape the religions as we know them. And that those who tried to make religion
only “of the heart,” could be among the most dangerous because of their
subjectivity that resisted intellectual scrutiny.
I
had the biggest challenge reading about Islam. I was already familiar—if
vaguely—with many of the names and general movements in other religions, but
there were so many names and movements in Islam—both unfamiliar because of my
lack of education as well as sounding exotic—that it reminded me of a classic
Russian novel, having so many characters!
I
found the chapter on the Reformers particularly disheartening, especially
Armstrong’s treatment of Martin Luther—at this point I reminded myself that
Armstrong is a former nun, but that gave me little solace, given her obvious
command of religious history. Calvin came off better, I’m happy to say, given
my Presbyterian background, though later development of his thoughts on
predestination is scary.
You might have guessed
that I would be drawn to the chapter and segments on the mystics and mystical
traditions, by which all religions were blessed. I was already familiar
with many, but now to read of their experiences and insights in relation to one
another and their respective religious traditions made me esteem them yet more
highly. To me, they provide a salvific
thread to what was often a brutal enterprise of religion and theology.
Another
salvific thread for me was Eastern Orthodox thinking that we can’t possibly
know God as he/she/they is in actuality. Also I liked the idea that God is “no
thing,” somewhat of a parallel to what I’ve read of Buddhism’s “no thing.”
By
comparison, Armstrong explains how talkative Christianity became in the West,
with its emphasis on doctrine and systematic theology. Instead, in Eastern Orthodox understanding, we need silence to
understand/experience God, which I believe is central to a spiritual life.
Of course, then we might come back to a religion “of the heart” and the
subjectivity that is potentially dangerous. But communing with God was to be of
the mind as well, and within the context of a spiritual community and a
spiritual tradition that can serve as correctives.
As
a progressive Christian, two other things were of particular interest:
First, literalism was rare
and “untraditional”: there was a deep respect for and valuing of the place of
myth in all religious traditions. Myth and storytelling reveal something deeper
about our human experience than can be explained. To take them “literally” is
to do them and us and even God, a disservice.
And second, those who
treated others badly and judgmentally were doing so out of their anxiety and
fear of an angry god too demanding to please.
Once the Bible begins to be interpreted literally
instead of symbolically, the idea of its God becomes impossible. To imagine a
deity who is literally responsible for everything that happens on earth
involves impossible contradictions. The “God” of the Bible ceases to be a
symbol of a transcendent reality and becomes a cruel and despotic tyrant. (p
283)
Could it be that a deliberately imaginative
conception of God, based on mythology and mysticism, is more effective as a
means of giving his people courage to survive tragedy and distress than a God
whose myths are interpreted literally? (p 286)
Armstrong suggests the
benefit of discovering God using “the imaginative disciplines of prayer and
contemplation,” and the danger of assuming God as a “fact.” (p 291)
In
one of my earliest books and again, in one of my posts on this blog, I wrote
that we can get into trouble when we treat matters of faith as matter-of-fact.
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