How Important is 'Right Belief'?

In the sixteen years I have served the Midland Unitarian Association, I have travelled many thousands of miles. I have criss-crossed the District in my car, visiting congregations and individuals, and attending meetings (this last far less often since 2020, when we all discovered Zoom!). And during my Presidential year, I drove even greater distances, all around England and into South Wales.

And my favourite way of beguiling the time is to listen; either to music, or to one of the Teaching Company's Great Courses. Over the years, I have built up a fine collection of the latter, owning most of their Religion and Theology and Writing courses. I've listened to all of them at least once, and to some of them repeatedly. Each course comprises between 12 and 36 half-hour lectures, the most common length being 24.

In recent weeks, I have been listening to one of my favourites, The History of Christian Theology, a comprehensive and erudite 36-lecture course, taught by Professor Philip Cary. He has the ability to explain the most intricate and abstruse aspects of Christian belief and doctrine with great clarity and objectivity. It has been a real education to listen to him explain the intricate ins and outs of complicated Christian doctrines like the Trinity, Incarnation and Grace. Because even before the Great Schism of 1054 or the Protestant Reformation of the early 16th century, there was still plenty of opportunity for debate, and fierce dissension within the so-called "Catholic" church (Catholic means 'universal').

The lectures cover the whole history and evolution of Christian theology, from the earliest days right up to the present - or at least, up to 2008, when the course was written. And the thing which has fascinated me the most is the central importance of orthodoxy "right belief" to Christians. Over the centuries, there have been endless arguments and fierce divisions over the minutiae of nuances in Christian beliefs and doctrine. Right from the mid-1st century CE, when Paul spent much of his time earnestly writing to his scattered flock about what they *ought* to believe. And getting exasperated when they didn't get it. For example, in the first chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians, he writes, "I appeal to you, brothers and sisters, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you agree with one another in what you say and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be perfectly united in mind and thought."

Professor Cary explains in his first lecture, "Christian theology is a tradition of critical reasoning about Christian doctrine, that is, about what should be taught in church about Jesus Christ and life in him. Christian theology focuses on doctrine rather than law, because Christianity is a faith more than a way of life, so the question of what people should be taught to believe is of the essence. Unlike other religions, Christianity is essentially a faith because it is not fundamentally about how to live but about the life of another person, Jesus Christ... In Christian theology, even the crucial theme of Jesus's own teaching, the Kingdom of God, is subordinated to teaching about who Jesus is - the Christ, which means the king in the Kingdom of God."

The consequences of differing beliefs between various factions have, on occasions, been world-changing. Heretics have been variously excommunicated, burned at the stake, or shunned, for  theological disagreements over what I as a Unitarian (so probably an arch-heretic) see as almost frivolously minute differences in theology. In the mid-eleventh century, for example, the Great Schism between the Eastern Orthodox and Catholic churches happened on account of a single Latin word, filioque. As Professor Cary explains, this means "and of the Son" and is "from a clause in the Western version of the Nicene Creed saying that the Holy Spirit 'proceeds from the Father and the Son'. This doctrine of 'double procession' is rejected by the Eastern Orthodox and became the cause of the schism between the Eastern and Western churches in 1054, resulting in the formal separation of Eastern Orthodox from Roman Catholic." Okay, there was probably more to it than that, and the filioque issue was probably the "straw that broke the camel's back", but really?

Perhaps the most well-known and far-reaching example was, of course, Martin Luther, who famously nailed his 95 Theses to the door of Wittenberg Cathedral in October 1517. As Professor Cary explains, "He criticised the sale of indulgences because they detracted from true inward penance of the heart.... These criticisms were meant as an invitation for disputation." Luther originally had no idea of leading a secession from the Catholic Church - he was both a monk and a theology professor. Yet the upshot of his act was the Protestant Reformation. In the 500 years since then, countless denominations have sprung up, each convinced of the unique "rightness" of their own particular brand of Christianity.

So much bitter argument. So much self-righteous justification. So much persecution of those who did not / do not share your beliefs. So much willingness to pronounce that anyone who does not believe exactly as you do is bound for eternal damnation in the fires of Hell.

I cannot help wondering what Jesus, that first century Jewish rabbi, would have made of it all... The man who allegedly told his followers: 

"Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat, do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you. 

    If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

    Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive and you will be forgiven; give and it will be given to you."(Luke 6:27-38)

The difference between these teachings of Jesus and Christian theology are striking. Arguments over what to outsiders seem to be minor nuances in Christian doctrine have, over the centuries, involved thousands of people and whole countries (sometimes even the entire continent of Europe) in war and persecution and terror.

Even my own denomination, Unitarianism, which is supposed to be inclusive and tolerant and welcoming of people with diverse beliefs, has its factions and its politics; its bitter arguments and its disagreements...

I find it baffling. For me, right behaviour, such as Jesus tells us to do, trumps right belief every time...

  

The Power of Lies

"The more successfully someone lies, and the more people he convinces, the more chance he will end up believing in his own lies." These are the words of Hannah Arendt, who, according to Wikipedia,  was "a German-American historian and philosopher... one of the most influential political theorists of the 20th century." 

She died in 1975, not long after the Watergate scandal in the US. I cannot help wondering what she would have thought of the political scene today, not only in the US, but also over here. Because I can think of two particular blond-haired politicians, about whom her words are prescient...

According to my Concise Oxford Dictionary, the meaning of the word "politics" is "the science and art of government" and a "politician" is defined as "One skilled in politics, statesman; one interested or engaged in politics, esp. as profession." 

When I was a small child, sixty years ago, it seemed that most politicians were in politics for what they could give, not only for what they could get. They were required to have certain ethical standards, and if scandal attached to them, they were expected to resign. And I am sure that this is still true of some politicians - certainly a lot of good work gets done by House of Lords and House of Commons committees.

Yet sadly, it is a long time since I have trusted the word of most politicians. Many today, it seems, believe their own lies wholeheartedly. Take the climate change crisis as an example: the Paris Agreement was signed by most nations of the world in 2015 and yet, nine years later, we are little closer to doing anything much to mitigate the effects of our polluting, wasteful ways.

It can be hard to believe in the goodness of people sometimes, when so much evil is being done in our names. And when it seems we have little power or influence over the people who are supposed to be running the country "for us". I guess the least that any of us can do is to stand in our own integrity, stand up against the lies that many politicians tell, actively campaign for change, and try to make a positive difference in our own small corners of the world.

Mind over Matter

I had never heard of Avicenna, the 10th century Persian philosopher and physician, who wrote this week's quotation. But according to Wikipedia, he was "a pre-eminent philosopher and physician of the Muslim world, flourishing during the Islamic Golden Age... He is often described as the father of early modern medicine."

And he once wrote, "Strong thinking can bring a camel down."

Which I guess refers to the importance of our human powers of thought. Which could be interpreted in different ways. First, it could mean that if we think about a problem (the camel) hard enough and long enough, a solution will present itself, and we will be able to "bring the camel down." Second, it could refer to the power of our minds over our bodies: if we think we can do something, we will be able to do it, however unlikely that may seem at first sight.

So for example, practised meditators are able to bring their heartrates down to levels unachievable by the rest of us. And the Japanese Ama divers are able to hold their breath underwater for long periods as they dive for pearls.

On a more prosaic (but still important level) the power of thought can help us to change long-held but no longer constructive patterns of behaviour. For example, I, as an habitual drinker, was able to quit alcohol in September 2013 and haven't touched a drop since. I needed all my strength of will to achieve this, all the "strong thoughts" Avicenna speaks of.

And we have to really want whatever it is... to desire it with our deepest hearts. And be willing to change our lives permanently, not just for a few weeks. Which is why most diets don't work. Permanent change is not a "quick fix". It is the work of a lifetime.

I think that more than "strong thought" is involved in this. It also means throwing our free will into the fray and having a strong and unquenchable desire for a particular outcome. Thought and willpower between them can indeed move mountains in our lives. Yet we also need the encouragement and support of others - their "strong thought" in terms of prayers and good wishes can also bring amazing results.

What camels do you want to bring down? And how might others help you?

The Opium of the People

Karl Marx's famous words about religion being "the opium of the people" have been quoted so often, they have become a cliché. So it was interesting to read it in its wider context today:

"Religious suffering is, at one and the same time, the expression of real suffering and a protest against real suffering. Religion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the sentiment of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people. The abolition of religion as the illusory happiness of the people is the demand for their real happiness. To call on them to give up their illusions about their condition is to call on them to give up a condition that requires illusions. The criticism of religion is, therefore, the criticism of that vale of tears of which religion is the halo."

In other words, he is not against religion per se, but against the harsh conditions under which people live which, for him, necessitate a turning to religion as a solace for the hardships of the world. I think he also believed that religion kept people docile, more accepting of the "vale of tears" which was their daily lives. 

And yes, I see his point. Or at least, I do up to a point. If someone's life is miserable and hard, it may be a comfort to reflect that there is something better to come in the next world. That they will somehow be rewarded for their stoic acceptance of misery and harsh circumstances in this world. And I can understand that his real concern was to alleviate the "real suffering" of the people, so that they would not need this solace. Marx believed that if people's lives were more comfortable, less bleak, they would not need religion as a solace.

And to some extent (some would say, to a large extent), his thesis has been proved, here in the privileged West, in the last seventy-five years or so. As people's lives have become more comfortable in material terms, there has been a great turning away from religion. A fascinating article about religion in the UK on Wikipedia states, "The familiar starting-point, a classical model of secularisation, argues that religious faith becomes less plausible and religious practice more difficult in advanced industrial and urbanized societies. The breakdown or disruption of traditional communities and norms of behaviour; the spread of a scientific world-view diminishing the scope of the supernatural and the role of God; increasing material affluence promoting self-reliance and this-worldly optimism; and greater awareness and toleration of different creeds and ideas, encouraging religious pluralism and eviscerating commitment to a particular faith, all form components of the case for secularisation."

And yet, many of us persist in believing in something "more", something "other" than what we can perceive with our five senses. There is a sense that there is something beyond the material world, some spiritual connection to something greater than ourselves. I believe that if in one sense, religion can be called the "opium" of the people, having a religious or spiritual faith can also be strengthening. It can help the individual to stand their ground on issues they care about and to work for good in the world. It can help them to cope when "shit happens" (as it surely will), but can also add an extra dimension to joy.

I can only speak for myself, but my life has been rendered immeasurably richer by my religious faith.