On Nomenclature: Religion, Spirituality, Atheism (TQP0136)
It’s unlikely that I’m going to contribute much to the actual ideas in the New Thought, or whatever it is we’re calling it. But I think we’ll all have a better time talking about it if we can find agreement about what we mean by certain things, and if establishing a consistent nomenclature to the argument is all I’m able to give, then I guess it’s what I’ll have to offer.
So, INTERNATIONALLY RENOWNED SCHOLAR of religion and science fiction, Gabe McKee, has this post over at the SFGospel, in which he seems bothered by Grant Morrison’s use of “religion” when what he really means is “church,” and his use of “spirituality” when what he really means is “religion.” I’m not sure I agree with this taxonomy, and I’ll get to why after a brief digression.
Here’s the digression: my friend Ed is a pastor, and he once innocently asked me what my religion was. I told him that I was basically irreligious, thinking that I meant something very specific. Ed responded with a quote from I believe theologian Paul Tillich, who said that because “God is man’s ultimate concern,” then even atheists were religious. I was skeptical of such an argument, but before I could respond, Ed told me, “This isn’t just semantic bullshit!”
In fact, I think that semantic bullshit is exactly what this is. A definition like that, one that fully includes both religion and irreligion, makes the meaning of the word “God” so broad as to be practically irrelevant. Not only can the subject of this ultimate concern be widely varied (from the infinite benevolent force of a committed churchgoer, to the survival of the elephants for an atheistic zookeeper), but the ultimacy of that concern can be equally varied. Is the experience of commitment to God the same for an Islamic dervish as it is for a disaffected teenager who really only cares about getting laid?
Moreover, it’s disingenuous and potentially even dishonest, which gets me back to Gabe’s distinction between “church” and “religion,” and conflation of “spirituality” and “religion.” I’m not saying that Gabe is being dishonest, here; I’m saying that he’s using nomenclature that creates room for dishonesty.
It’s certainly possible that in theological circles, the word “religion” has a specific and unique definition from “spirituality,” and that in this sense, the word represents an element of a technical lexicon that only applies in certain contexts. But in the popular context, words are given meaning not by etymology or even definition, but by popular acclaim. Is it reasonable to suggest that the widespread understanding of “religion” in America is simply “whatever you happen to concern yourself with”? In Grant Morrison’s case, his concern is with the “spirit”–some immortal part of the self that exists and is meant to exist in a sphere beyond the compass of natural law–and so his “spirituality” would just be “religion.” His rejection of religion would be inaccurate, because he’s not really rejecting religion, he’s just rejection all of the religions that don’t jive with his sense of what religion should be.
There’s a problem with this definition, of course, because a definition like this includes “science,” (science, in this case, being “ultimate concern with the functioning of the natural world”) which the definition of “religion” absolutely cannot, MUST NOT include. There is an important reason for this: in the United States, the Establishment Clause protects each individual religious system from government valuation. If science is a kind of religion, then establishing it in public schools amounts to creating a state religion, and is a violation of the First Amendment. This is exactly the kind of thinking that the AFA uses to demand that evolution be taught alongside creationism in schools, and which hinders the government from prosecuting parents that do not teach their children basic scientific literacy with neglecting their education.
I think I can resolve this though. In the first place, we need to establish that there are two kinds of thinking going on here. One is evidentiary or empirical thinking, and one is–whatever the opposite of that is. I guess you could call it “intuitive,” or “revelatory” thinking. The first is when conclusions are drawn as a result of analysis of the natural world, the second is when conclusions are drawn according to the peculiar motivations of the spirit, and does not regard the evidence of the natural world.
Now, I will happily argue about whether or not one is better than the other, whether people need both in order to function in society, whether conscious satisfaction can come from a purely empirical worldview, or any number of other comparative arguments. What I will not entertain is that these two epistemologies are the same thing; they are distinct, and they are by definition irreconcilable.
“Religion” in the public context is a form of the second epistemology, and is probably most consistently understood as a shared orthodoxy regarding truth. This is distinct from science, which makes absolutely no claims to truth at all, but instead concerns itself with precision and accuracy–because, by definition, empirical thinking cannot lead to truth, only to apparent similarity. It is likewise distinct from religious inquiry–a man can inquire into the nature of truth, and can theorize about it with the intent of sharing it, but until someone else takes those ideas and accepts them as truth, he hasn’t actually established religion.
This definition is also what creates the need for the word “spirituality”–the suggestion of such a word being: “individuated beliefs regarding the truth.” Ironically, this is startlingly similar to the American Transcendentalist epistemology, which is one of the first major American theological/philosophical movements. Grant Morrison, when he says that he rejects religion and embraces spirituality, is really only saying that he’s rejecting the need for orthodoxy in favor of heterodoxy; this does not preclude science, believing in transcendence, or even pilfering from past religious thinkers. Because Morrison is arguing for a kind of eclecticism, that certain elements of his beliefs resemble the beliefs of other orthodoxies does not make his system the same as Augustine’s or Swedenborg’s, or whoever’s.
To be perfectly precise, of course, “Spirituality” isn’t simply non-religion; it’s a specific kind of non-religion. Spirituality comes with the attendent assumption of the existence of the spirit–some divine, or immortal, or at least immeasurable aspect of the human–which is not included in the definition of “religion” that I’m using, or even included in the compass of the second epistemology. While believing in things other than the senses does imply the existence of something outside of natural law, it does not necessarily follow that there is an aspect of man that is likewise supernatural.
All of these things are distinct from “Church,” which is a specific organization or institution dedicated to preserving, propagating, and acting from orthodoxy; rightly, church should probably be understood as the orthopraxic subset of a religion. You can have a religion without having a church, and Grant Morrison, while he is also rejecting church, isn’t stopping there: he’s rejecting everything that resembles orthodoxy.
While I’m on the subject, I guess, I want to point out that “atheism” is a wildly misleading term. The morophology of it suggests that it is a kind of religion, and certainly it is possible for there to be a religion of atheism, but atheism is not inherently religious. There are many routes that lead to a non-belief in god–a positivist approach to empirical epistemology does not include the belief in God (at the moment), and so someone whose thinking was purely scientific might rightly be called an atheist, but no thinking that is a product of this epistemology can accurately be called “religion.” At the same time, Grant Morrison’s spirituality can be either theistic or atheistic; I don’t know precisely what kooky things Morrison believes, but I suspect at root they’re theistic, in the same vein as Alan Moore’s.
I think that these are reasonable distinctions to make, and that they are concomitant with both the public opinion–in the US–regarding what religion is, and carry the necessary precision to be effective terms for discussion.
This entry was posted on December 17, 2008 at 10:44 am and is filed under Braak with tags Braak, what the hell am I even saying anymore?. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
December 17, 2008 at 6:22 pm
I think you’re right about your definitions and pretty much everything else, except that I remain unconvinced that Tillich is wrong, or that he’s saying exactly what you’re saying he’s saying. The verbiage is accurate, to my memory, but I think you’d have a hard time finding a disaffected teenager whose actual ultimate concern was getting laid, no matter what he said. Tillich means something less tangible, and while you could argue whether that doesn’t differ qualitatively from person to person, I think you’re going to have trouble persuading anyone that at the root of any human being is a simple desire for some kind of purely material accomplishment. Of course, Tillich and I have only, like, nearly every story ever told, fictional or biographical, to back us up here.
Anyway, the ultimate-concern question obviously isn’t decidable by a simple argument from authority, but in Tillich’s favor is that he trained as a philosopher and theologian in Germany when those fields were arguably at the height of their powers, or one of the heights. He did not suggest the idea, or probably any idea, cavalierly.
December 17, 2008 at 6:23 pm
There were a couple of grammatical things I should have revised there, but the point is: I want to make out with Paul Tillich.
December 17, 2008 at 7:15 pm
Of course, having every story ever told doesn’t precisely prove your point, as the desire for something more than tangible satisfaction may also be a motivating factor in encouraging people to write things down; your evidence, then, would be self-selecting.
I’m still unconvinced of the argument–because even the desire for something more than the material can be explained materialistically. That is to say, if we can agree that everyone longs for more than what is purely sensual, and that what they long for is what God is, presumes that there is something more than the purely sensual.
But, from a purely materialistic standpoint, the longing itself is a function of neurochemistry, and there is no God to be longed for; in that case, it is preserving the feeling of longing itself, or, alternately, a feeling of satisfaction of that longing equally plausible as a function of neurology, that is what God is.
These are two drastically different things, though; the former is, potentially at least, an expression of an infinitude, while the latter is one that is purely finite and experiential. I don’t know if Tillich means to define God as being extra-human, and certainly there’s room for debate. But if “God” is practically indistinguishable from a condition of neurology, then theologians ought to be practically indistinguishable from neurologists.
Also, with regard to Germans: the problem with the Germans is that they don’t all agree with each other. Now, if all of the Germans are right, then nothing makes any sense, and talking about it is pointless. If all of them are wrong, then studying theology among Germans isn’t any kind of authority at all. And if only one of them is right, then the odds of emulating the right one–especially in a field that can only be checked against semantics and individual intuition–is really unlikely.
December 17, 2008 at 7:36 pm
I knew you were going to go there with the neurology, because, well, it’s a good counterargument. But my point about the Germans was just that Paul Tillich is probably smarter than you. Buster.
December 17, 2008 at 10:18 pm
Well, probably. Though you can never tell with Germans.
Anyway, the point of the Paul Tillich thing was just that it’s what leads me to believe that there are two essentially irreconcilable epistemologies here.
Or, maybe not irreconcilable. What’s the word for two things that are unable to compliment each other, because they also can’t contradict each other? Stephen Jay Gould called science and religion “non-overlapping magisteria,” which is a very cumbersome way to say it.
December 17, 2008 at 11:09 pm
Yup: Preservation of sensual perception and experience. If a religion couldn’t promise some perpetuation of sensual awareness after death, people would be less likely to follow it.”Spirituality” can’t guarantee the same…but doesn’t require organized, social obedience, either (if it’s strictly methodical, without blurry boundaries, it should probably be called “Religion” or, uniquely, “Science”.) Spirituality can inspire an individual to join a religion, but doesn’t require religion to exist. To believe in something immeasurable by anything within the sensual “toolbox” belonging to the human body, or by what we could ever create with it, or even what we could conceive other life is cognitively aware of—metaphysical—is “Spirituality”.
I doubt Tillich’s smarter. Based on what I’ve read, Braak is quite a smartie.
December 18, 2008 at 12:18 am
…”Spirituality” as based on something “immeasurable” wasn’t good wording; “Sprituality” attempts to connect cognitive perception with something beyond what we are currently able to percieve or concieve from any history of information based on physical laws, relying, instead, on intuition and “feeling” as if both exist as something beyond material. Spirituality implies that if someone can percieve something, than there must be things they can’t percieve, therefore, the boundary between “can” and “can’t” could be overcome by transcending the physical state and establishing a connection beyond corporal to the immaterial or, possibly, supernatural.
December 18, 2008 at 2:50 am
@V.I.P.: If Braak is so smart, how come he isn’t a famous Christian theologian then?
FACE.
December 18, 2008 at 2:57 am
@braak: See, re: the non-overlapping magisteria, that is where I’m at. I see no reason why a benevolent God wouldn’t give us a scientifically understandable universe; in fact, it seems like that is exactly what He would do. But I don’t see any way around the fact that Anyone deserving the title of God can’t be scientifically understandable Himself—science relies on measurement, and to be God, He has to be infinite.
December 18, 2008 at 9:59 am
@Josh: Which is what puts God–that is, God as an infinite, immeasurable quantity, rather than God as the preservation of the elephants–in the second epistemology.
It’s my personal opinion that the features of the second epistemology are illusory–sometimes necessary, yes, but always ultimately a kind of fantasy. The thing of it is, there is simply no way to disprove anything in the second epistemology by using the first one, because the first one can only claim provenance over what can be measured.
What I find interesting about all this is the kind of confusion that perspective engenders; if you live in the first epistemology, everything in the second looks like a kind of poorly-understood science. If you live in the second, everything in the first looks like a kind of faith.
December 18, 2008 at 10:01 am
@Josh: Also, as the consulting theologian for “American Icon: The Quest for America’s Next Great Spiritual Leader,” I will be a famous Christian theologian as soon as that show is picked up.
Any time, now, I am expecting a call. Any time.
December 18, 2008 at 1:19 pm
Oh, man! You guys removed the “trashbin” option! Now I have to live with my irrelevant, mashed-up, after-hours postings. The vanity of it all. Now, it’s more like having real social interaction.
December 18, 2008 at 1:23 pm
@VIP: It could be worse. At least you don’t have an entire post with your name on it, presuming to explain the difference between religion and spirituality.
What must my peers–WHO ARE ALL WELL-RESPECTED THEOLOGIANS–think of me?
December 18, 2008 at 6:04 pm
We think you are RUBBISH, Mr. Braak. UTTER. RUBBISH.
Also I can’t read your longer posts at the end of a long day, or I go cross-eyed.
December 19, 2008 at 12:03 pm
@Holland: I am probably too verbose to be a good “blog” guy.
December 19, 2008 at 2:55 pm
@braak: Well, I’m not being flip, but ultimately, the first epistemology is a kind of faith. I mean, we can all agree that science is awesome and has a great, reliable track record, but it still can be boiled down to a set of axioms that are assumptions, and those assumptions may prove to be unfounded (and have been, in the past).
Not that I’m saying that for all practical purposes there isn’t still a salient difference between the two epistemologies, just that it’s not a cut-and-dry difference. Not that I think you didn’t know that already.
December 19, 2008 at 3:31 pm
@Josh: See?
But actually, no. The difference is this: you don’t have to believe that anything is true. Science does not aspire to truth. When we say, “Evolution is true,” what we’re really saying is that, “So far, evolution seems like the most likely explanation for the data that we have.”
There are certain foundational things–i.e., the reliability of the senses to apprehend data–but science even includes a necessary skepticism of these things. By saying, “This appears true at this time,” the implicit unreliability of the senses is already taken into account.
The nature of the measurable world is that nothing can be described as having being in and of itself; it can only be described with regard to other things. There is no necessary objective truth. Scientifically, we can’t describe anything except comparatively. And, sure, scientists will all sit around and theorize, and if they achieve consensus with their likely explanations, then they can say, “Well, let us behave as though this were true, until something comes along to disprove it.” No theory in science is ever proven true; it only ever consistently fails to be proven false.
A scientific assumption is, by definition, not an act of faith–an assumption is implicitly uncertain, and exists in place of surety. It is always conditional, rather than absolute, and can eventually be disregarded. In fact, scientific philosophy generally holds that a proposition can’t be counted as “science” if it is not something that could (in theory at least) eventually be proven false in some way.
December 19, 2008 at 4:55 pm
@braak: Well, I know and agree with the bulk of that, but I think “an assumption is implicitly uncertain” is inherent in the definition of “act of faith.”
December 19, 2008 at 5:08 pm
@Josh: Well, then maybe we’re operating under different definitions of faith, here. I’m specifically talking about a scientific assumption, which is the provisional “let’s just figure on this being true until we get something better.” This does not sound like what I understand faith to be. What is the definition for faith that you are using?
December 19, 2008 at 6:06 pm
@braak: OK, I’m looking at Webster’s—not because I don’t have my own idea, but to make sure my own idea has some bearing in the language—and while there are a few relevant definitions there, most of them use the word belief somehow: “belief and trust in and loyalty to God”; “firm belief in something for which there is no proof”; “something that is believed especially with strong conviction.”
And for me, it hinges on that word, belief, which I think is different from knowing. I think the wise Christian, for example, believes there’s a God Who loves them, and acts accordingly, but also recognizes there’s no objective proof and never will be. Taking Kierkegaard’s leap of faith (and let me know if I am misapplying poor Søren here) means you hope and trust that it’s going to turn out all right, but you don’t know; if you did, it wouldn’t be a leap.
My own belief in God is riddled constantly with the possibility that He doesn’t exist, which persists despite my having experienced what I think are some tiny but authentic miracles. I don’t think we, as finite creatures, can ever get past that; I don’t think there’s any way for us, except maybe briefly, to accept or come to terms with the existence of a force beyond time and space (which I think is what God has to be). And I think that’s supposed to be at the heart of the religious struggle: Knowing there’s no proof, knowing we have only what amounts to a voice inside of us to guide us, we press on anyway; and the fact of that pressing on, when it would be entirely reasonable to say “This is stupid” and quit, is the point. The pressures of the world that Christ tells his followers will oppose them aren’t just persecution and apathy, but I think also the simple fact that it’s very easy to get caught up in this material existence and ignore something that’s ostensibly greater.
I’m afraid I might be getting too rhetorical here, at the expense of substantive argument, and too far afield. And the more I think about it, the more I suspect we’re just coming back around to the point of your post, that there are two epistemologies at work here, and that maybe the salient difference between them is more cut and dry than I thought. Because with science, bad results tend to mean you discard your assumption altogether; whereas with religion, a “bad” result isn’t by any means a reason you should give up. That said, I think religious faith needs to be tempered with reason (why else would God have given us reason?), and that a healthy religious faith acknowledges the uncertainty at the heart of it. Even if it doesn’t look like it from the outside, there’s a difference (assuming God’s existence) between a fundamentalist who thinks they can do no wrong and a Christian who’s been served with a mission, even if that mission seems a bit nuts. The latter person should be healthy enough to acknowledge the nutsiness even while deciding to commit to it.
December 21, 2008 at 9:38 pm
[...] On Nomenclature: Religion, Spirituality, Atheism (TQP0136 … [...]
December 21, 2008 at 10:21 pm
I also don’t think that anyone thinks entirely one way or the other. Even David Hume acknowledged that if you only behave 100% completely logically, you’d never really do anything–he allowed for the need for uncertain and unknown motivating factors. So, even when I say, “living in the first epistemology” I just mean, “which way do you tend to organize things?”
This lends itself to an important distinction, I guess: there’s a major difference between tending towards 2e and applying 2e universally, which may be the difference between a faithful man and a zealot.