As a teacher of English at the college level, one of the
intellectual problems I am facing is reconciling my love for literature with my
strengthening atheism.
By Joseph Smigelski
I used to be the kind of guy who tried to be conciliatory
and find a "middle ground" between science and religion. I even wrote
articles about it. (See, for example, Creation Myths vs. Evolutionary Stories.)
I used to go along with scientists like the late Stephen Jay Gould, a man I
have much respect for, who said that science and religion did not have to be in
conflict, that they could peacefully co-exist as "non-overlapping magisteria." But I can no longer side with Gould and
must move toward his erstwhile rival Richard Dawkins, whose next book is
entitled The God Delusion.
Some argue that science and religion should be kept separate
but that they are not enemies of one another; they fulfill different needs in
the intellectual and spiritual evolution of human beings. We need science to
understand nature and how things work. Science is what has brought us out of
the dark ages and into the modern world. Without it, we would still be
primitive hunters and gatherers. We need religion, the argument continues,
because without it we'd be amoral and unethical, unable to appreciate anything
beyond the cold materialism of "survival of the fittest" (a phrase,
by the way, that abuses Darwinism).
My own thinking on the subject has evolved. The notion of
reconciling science and religion has lost its charm. Too many people have used
religion for too long as a manipulative tool to obtain and maintain inordinate
power and authority over others. And religion is based upon nothing but
non-verifiable supernatural beliefs. It's founded on nothing that is real.
Certainly, many people have done good in the name of
religion, but balance that with all the Crusades, the jihads, the Spanish
Inquisition, and the many "heretics" throughout history who were
hanged and burnt at the stake.
One can justifiably argue that unscrupulous rulers have
misused science and made the world a less happy place. But at least science is
something that is real and testable. It concerns itself with the real world,
not a world of superstition and unreality. The scientific method is the only
thing we have to really help us survive on this planet and perhaps, one day,
colonize others. Sure, you can say that science has contributed to global
warming, for instance, but it will take more science to cope with that and
other serious environmental concerns. No amount of praying is going to make our
problems disappear. Science isn't perfect, and scientists are flawed human
beings just like the rest of us. Albert Einstein said, "All of our
science, measured against reality, is primitive and childlike -- and yet it is
the most precious thing we have." And science deals with the tangible, not
angels and demons and da Vinci codes.
I received my primary education from Dominican nuns in a
Catholic grade school in upstate New York.
We were taught the Baltimore Catechism. I can still remember verbatim some of
the questions and answers that I was, in Bob Dylan's phrase, "made to
memorize":
Who made me?
God made me.
What is a sacrament?
A sacrament is an outward sign instituted by Christ to give
grace.
I now find it much more interesting and gratifying to ponder
that what really made me was an incredibly hot ball of luminous fire: Science
informs me that every atom in my body was created eons ago in the center of a
star. And that is something that I don't have to accept solely on faith; there
is verifiable evidence that all the elements of the periodic table (at least
through number 92, uranium) were created when stars formed, and then those
elements were distributed throughout the universe when those stars exploded.*
And I understand that the sacraments are rituals and that humans, for some reason, need rituals to form bonds
with one another. But isn't an even stronger bond created by the knowledge that
we really are "all one" because we all share the same building blocks
that were created when the universe was in its infancy? We are all members of a
real "great chain of being": not the medieval pipe dream, but one
described and verified by physics and cosmology. We can have spirituality -- an
appreciation of grandeur, beauty and truth -- without religion. The natural
world can be seen as godless, yet its natural majesty can still inspire awe and
wonder.
The Supernatural as Metaphor
As a teacher of English at the community college level, one
of the intellectual problems I am facing now is reconciling my love for
literature with my strengthening atheism. (I sometimes sway toward
"deism" as defined in The American Heritage Dictionary: "the
belief, based solely on reason, in a God who created the universe and then
abandoned it, assuming no control over life, exerting no influence on natural
phenomena, and giving no supernatural revelation." But even this
concession jettisons all of what we usually think of as religious belief.)
Novelists, essayists, poets, and playwrights make almost
constant reference to religion and spirituality, which implies some level of
belief in the supernatural. Sometimes I feel that I am spreading nonsense among
my students, reinforcing ridiculous medieval notions that should have long ago
been eradicated by the more intense light of reason. I tackle the problem by
noting that creative writers are always searching for ways to enhance our
mundane existence, and so they often dip into superstition and religion for
images that can capture the imagination. In the light of modern science, we can
strain what they are doing through the sieve of metaphor and get past the
supernatural implications to the heart of what it is to be human.
When Hamlet was about to kill his uncle Claudius to revenge
the murder of his father, he hesitated because Claudius was at prayer.
Now might I do it pat, now he is praying;
And now I'll do't. And so he goes
to heaven;
And so am I revenged. That would be scann'd:
A villain kills my father; and for that,
I, his sole son, do this same villain send
To heaven.
. . . . . . . . . .
No!
Up, sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage,
Or in the incestuous pleasure of his bed;
At gaming, swearing, or about some act
That has no relish of salvation in't;
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at
heaven,
And that his soul may be as damn'd
and black
As hell, whereto it goes.
Does one have to believe in an actual heaven and hell to understand
what Hamlet is going through? Of course not. But it is
helpful to understand one thing: Hamlet is contemplating something so horrible
that most of us have trouble comprehending it today, even if we are believers.
What we realize about Hamlet is that his desire for revenge is so great and so
dire that he puts it off -- he doesn't take his clear shot at killing the king
-- not because of a momentary attack of scruples, but because he wants to make
his revenge manifest not only in this world but in the next! The moral code of
Hamlet's day implied that killing a man to obtain just revenge was one thing,
but sending the man's soul to hell was anathema. So Hamlet is radically going
against accepted religious and moral principles in wanting "unnatural"
revenge by not only killing Claudius, but also condemning him to everlasting
damnation.
What a powerful way Shakespeare chose to express how twisted
Hamlet's mind has become, how a basically good man can become a monster when
pushed to the outer boundary of his psychological landscape. I can fully
appreciate the psychological implications of what is happening to Hamlet
without believing in heaven and hell. I happily accept as metaphor what many
people take as fact. As a friend of mine told me recently, "We study whole
civilizations and can admire them, yet only if we blind ourselves to certain
disagreeable aspects of those societies. That is the price we must pay to enjoy
the beauty or the greatness." The same can be said for the study of
literature. That Shakespeare believed in the supernatural is questionable; that
he used the supernatural as a tool for strong storytelling is indisputable.
One of my favorite modern authors is Stephen King. He has
entertained me to no end with tales of vampires, haunted hotels, people with
telekinetic powers, etc. He delves into the supernatural the way most of us dip
into our savings accounts. We don't need money for its own sake; we need it for
the goods and services it can obtain for us. King may very well use the supernatural
for its own sake. Why not? It's fun, and it makes for great storytelling. (Just
ask Nathanial Hawthorne and Edgar Allan Poe -- or to go even further back in
time, the authors of the Holy Bible.) But King does more with the supernatural
elements he employs: he uses them as metaphors for real human problems and
aspirations. That's what makes him a great writer.
The best painters, including Michelangelo, have been
inspired by religious themes -- many because they were commissioned to do so,
but perhaps that is beside the point. The ceiling of the Sistine Chapel in Rome
is a good example. Who can look up at that magnificent work of art and not be
moved? Yet what we are seeing is not a manifestation of anything supernatural,
but a testament to the remarkable creativity residing within the human mind and
the deft capabilities of the human hand and eye.
Hamlet said to his best friend, "There are more things
in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy." He
was referring to natural philosophy, which we today call science. And he was
right. There are more things in heaven (outer space) and earth (especially the
oceans) than scientists had ever dreamt of in the past: black holes, dark
matter, neutrinos, life on the ocean floor in the absence of sunlight, etc.
Every week, scientists are discovering strange, wonderful, and sometimes
frightening novel aspects of our universe. Pick up a science magazine once in a
while and take a look. Who needs the supernatural when the natural is so
challenging and wild?
I think it's necessary for us to study the religions of the
world in order to get an idea of what has been important to people throughout
history and how they have coped with their problems both temporal and
spiritual. But in the light of modern science, it is time to reject all
supernatural explanations for the way things are. There is plenty to surprise
and inspire us in the natural world.
_____________________________________
* Actually, the elements with atomic numbers 3 through 92
were created when stars formed. Hydrogen and helium (atomic numbers 1 and 2)
were created earlier by the Big Bang.
Posted: 6/17/06
Source: http://interventionmag.com
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