Risto

In the consideration of religion, as in the consideration of any subject, a significant source of complication is the definition of the subject and the demarcation of its boundaries. Christianity and Buddhism are categorized as religions because they speak to the questions of nature and purpose, but from this point on many important differences emerge.

Referring to the dictionary, we find a number of definitions for the word 'religion,' including the following:

i. "A set of beliefs concerning the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe, esp. when considered as the creation of a superhuman agency or agencies, usually involving devotional and ritual observances, and often containing a moral code governing the conduct of human affairs."

ii. "Belief in and reverence for a supernatural power or powers regarded as creator and governor of the universe."

iii. "A set of beliefs, values, and practices based on the teachings of a spiritual leader."

The first two definitions are widely accepted to define religion at large, and are closely related, making reference to 'the cause, nature, and purpose of the universe,' and a 'supernatural power ... regarded as creator and governor of the universe.' What might not be so obvious at first glance is that the third definition has radically expanded the scope of meaning, by applying the word 'spiritual.' The word 'spirit' is fundamental to religious pedagogy, and is the root of much confusion in trying to measure the meaning of the word 'religion.'

Abrahamic religions assign the idea of a supernatural individual to the word spirit, and postulate that suffering is imposed on humanity (or suffering is permitted to exist, depending on the chosen theodicy -- in either case: suffering is controlled) by a conscious external spirit. Buddhism assigns the idea of natural interdependence to the word spirit, and reasons suffering to be the result of unconscious natural impulses that obstruct our ability to recognize the universal interconnectedness of all things. These ideas could not be more opposite.

Abrahamic traditions externalize truth, delimiting the front and back cover of holy writ as its perimeter. Here, truth exists as a finite, knowable set of numenal laws that man may discover through Biblical study. Familiarity with scripture and the ability to frame daily events in terms of Biblical allegory are equated with sovereignty in the understanding and teaching of existential meaning and purpose. Personal introspection is applicable primarily in shaping oneself to conform with Biblical jurisprudence. The holy spirit is an individual, though perhaps not a tangible being, with human emotions and superhuman abilities.

The Buddhist tradition is subjective, positing that truth is internal, an abstract conception particular to human consciousness. Put plainly, there is no such thing as truth. Language, thoughts, and physical matter are manifestations of the same thing. The universe is an existential experience. In order to obtain insight humans must reflect upon their life, and ultimately upon existence itself. One must practice the art of meditation and learn to look inward, beyond themselves and eventually beyond the physical world, in order to perceive the underlying realm of interconnectedness. The holy spirit is everything, and transcends all phenomena.

As religions, the beliefs discussed above are different in fundamental ways. The Buddhist practice of meditation is entirely different in character than, for example, the Protestant practice of worship, and the Buddhist concept of spiritual unity is entirely different in character than the Protestant concept of spiritual individuality. A student of Buddha is something -- not merely someone -- entirely different than a student of Luther. These basic but monumental differences give rise to much confusion in the consideration of what it means to be religious, and what it means to be spiritual. I've met precious few religious followers who understand these differences, but I have met many supporters of Abraham who wax maudlin about the holy spirit, claiming that I, and atheists/secular humanists/nontheists/et al. as a group, have not taken the time to explore spirituality, or else we would accept their version of it.

"[N]o one who understands what God is can think that God does not exist."

In my case, the Abrahamic worshippers had not taken the time to consider or explore ideas beyond their own, and were unaware that the ideas of 'spirituality' and 'God' are not limited to Abrahamic doctrine. When speaking with my Christian friends about the Buddhist notion of spirituality, my comments were stubbornly refused, and summarily dismissed. Unfortunately, in each case, my comrade approached the conversation as an opportunity for competition rather than analysis, and was more concerned with one-upping me than with contemplating new ideas. The problem here was not a particular belief, but the manner in which belief and knowledge were approached. Knowledge and understanding are the result of perpetual inquisition and impartial reasoning. Discovering the truth and making it accessible is what matters, not being recognized as its architect or vanguard. We must never idly accept our own conclusions, instead we must continually ask ourselves if we can advance our knowledge one step further. To borrow a statement that I make when training personnel, both new and old alike: interpersonal discussion and communication are important, always feel free to ask questions, no questions are bad questions -- however, we must all be conscientious prior to consulting peers for help, ensure that you have gone as far as you can possibly go with a problem on your own; make this a personal practice; before initiating a request for help, stop and ask yourself if you have pursued the problem to the fullest of your capabilities and review the problem one last time, you may find that you have left something unconsidered and are capable of solving a problem creatively on your own. Over time this approach improves morale and contentment as people work through solutions for themselves, and adversity to new ideas is reduced as people learn the importance of questioning their own conclusions. During the theological discussions described above people made little or no attempt to ask (non-rhetorical) questions, or to seek answers on their own. Instead, the discussion was limited to, and by, the application of familiar answers.

You see, "the human brain is, in large part, a machine for winning arguments, a machine for convincing others that its owner is in the right -- and thus a machine for convincing its owner of the same thing. The brain is like a good lawyer: given any set of interests to defend, it sets about convincing the world of their moral and logical worth, regardless of whether they in fact have any of either. Like a lawyer, the human brain wants victory, not truth; and, like a lawyer, it is sometimes more admirable for skill than for virtue." Because of this, we must all experiment with ideas beyond the sphere of our own beliefs, and be conscious to avoid focusing solely on readings that profess conclusions we already agree with. It's easy to fall into the trap of one-dimensional learning, and to follow the path laid out for us by our existing knowledge. Education must be as broad as possible, examining all viewpoints, and drawing conclusions only after giving everything a fair chance. When studying any subject it's important to investigate not only the ideas that resonate with us, but also the ideas that contradict with our own. How else could we ever enhance our understanding; what use would we have for the words 'curious,' 'thorough,' and 'perceptive?' I have no interest in stale platitudes. I would much rather scrutinize and test my ideas, and so when studying religion I read the religious literature of all denominations as well as agnostic and atheist literature.

Returning to the question of spirituality, and my acceptance thereof: I whole-mindedly accede that I am not spiritual in any Abrahamic sense of the word, but the fact of the matter is that I am spiritual, and I do accept God. The spirituality I experience is transcendental, and the God I apprehend is naturalistic, as described in the metaphysical monism of scientific Pantheism. This conception of spirituality was expressed by Baruch de Spinoza (sometimes cited using his Latin name, Benedictus) in the 17th century, and is often misunderstood by the casual observer as theistic or deistic owing to Spinoza's use of the word 'God':

i. "Whatsoever is, is in God, and without God nothing can be, or be conceived."

ii. "The mind's highest good is the knowledge of God, and the mind's highest virtue is to know God."

Fortunately, Spinoza's interpretation of the word God is clarified (if ever so slightly) upon further inspection:

i. "God is without passions, neither is he affected by any emotion of pleasure or pain ... Strictly speaking, God does not love anyone."

ii. "God is one, that is, only one substance can be granted in the universe."

iii. "Individual things are nothing but modifications of the attributes of God, or modes by which the attributes of God are expressed in a fixed and definite manner."

In this context the word 'God' does not describe a conscious entity, instead it is a synonym for nature. Thus Pantheism is readily reconciled with Buddhism. Pantheism itself is defined as:

i. "[T]he doctrine that God is the transcendent reality of which the material universe and human beings are only manifestations: it involves a denial of God's personality and expresses a tendency to identify God and nature."

ii. "[A]ny religious belief or philosophical doctrine that identifies God with the universe."

These definitions are further supported by the philosophical materialist face of the word 'monism', which is readily applied to Pantheism:

i. "The view ... that reality is a unified whole and that all existing things can be ascribed to or described by a single concept or system."

ii. "The doctrine that mind and matter are formed from, or reducible to, the same ultimate substance or principle of being."

Hopefully the distinction is clear, but to be safe I'll add a summary made by Richard Dawkins: "Pantheism is sexed-up atheism."

As a child, my parents never thrust religion on me, and so I was not religious or irreligious per se. Rather, I was permitted to explore the world freely, with my parents providing opportunity instead of orthodoxy. Without knowing the words, I was agnostic with a tendency towards atheism. I could not say that I was an atheist, Buddhist, or Pantheist, because I wasn't aware of those ideas. I was however aware of Christianity, and I most certainly was not that, though I did not understand why and I could not have articulated it. My ideas arose independently of religious study, and grew along with my anarchistic worldview. While growing up, I travelled the meandering paths of science, literature, anthropology, history, politics, philosophy, sociology, and psychology. There I searched for patterns, and the impact of this search on my personality is evidence that "a proper understanding of the magnificence of the real world, while never becoming a religion, can fill the inspirational role that religion has historically -- and inadequately -- usurped."

Turning back to the dogmatism of the aforementioned religious worshippers who declared that I was ignorant of spirituality, but who themselves were ignorant of it's multiform usage and interpretation: questions must be asked in the interest of expansion, not rhetorical superiority. Any discussion, be it religious or otherwise, must be pursued with the intent of increasing knowledge for everyone, not with the narrow hope of humiliating another participant. What is the advantage of constructing an argument atop witty rejoinders that appeal to emotional responses rather than intellectual ones, when the very same device may annihilate your facade? It's quite natural that tensions arise while discussing important issues such as education and the origin of life, but we must aspire towards respectful criticism, and resist presumption. It is one thing to enjoy and appreciate one's own abilities, but quite something else to compare your ideas and abilities to those of others from a derisory standpoint. "For of great minds, one of the proper works is, to help and free others from scorn; and compare themselves only with the most able." In the case that your intellect or acumen does in fact supercede those around you, what is the best application of your abilities? Disdain? Condescension? Or perhaps, could it be helping to empower others by improving their understanding and ability?

Arrogance has no intellectual utility.