Fundamentalism - Your thoughts here!

A few weeks ago I gave a platform at WES about fundamentalism - you can listen to it here or read it here. It was fun to write, and it was one that generated a lot of conversation and feedback. At around the same time, WES folks articulated at a program summit that they wanted a way to talk more about platforms that piqued their interest.

So here's an attempt to foster that conversation...starting with a guest essay from WES member Ellen Post. Ellen wrote a response to my platform, particularly around my use of Sam Harris and his book "The End of Faith." I commend her essay to you, and I'd love to hear your own responses...either in the comments section or in your own essays!

Here is what Ellen wrote...

January 2011
On Fundamentalism
By Ellen Post

I was inspired to write this essay by a platform at the Washington Ethical Society given by our wonderful Senior Leader, Amanda Poppei, titled, “The Fundamentals of Division,” about “fundamentalism in its many forms and the division that it creates.” “Fundamentalist” is generally a pejorative term. You don’t hear people saying in a complimentary tone, “Yes, he’s a fundamentalist. Isn’t it admirable?” You might hear fundamentalists speak highly of the firmness and steadfastness of their beliefs. But such admiration generally comes from within the fundamentalist fold, not from outside it.

We often admire people who have strong beliefs and stand by them, people who have the courage of their convictions – but not if those convictions are fundamentalist in nature. So what, then, is fundamentalism? And how is it distinguished from just having strong convictions?

Well, I did what any self-respecting essayist would do at this point –I went directly to Wikipedia and read what it had to say about “fundamentalism.” From Wikipedia (on or about January 21, 2011): “Fundamentalism is strict adherence to [a] specific set of theological doctrines typically in reaction against the theology of Modernism. … The term has since been generalized to mean strong adherence to any set of beliefs in the face of criticism or unpopularity …, but has by and large retained religious connotations. Historically, for some constituencies fundamentalism connotes an attachment to a set of irreducible beliefs.” Other definitions stress the strict and literal interpretation of a religious text – the Bible, for fundamentalist Christians, for example, and the Koran for fundamentalist Muslims.
Wikipedia points out, however, that even some nontheists have been called fundamentalists – which is odd, since they don’t adhere to any theological doctrine, let alone one with a strict and literal interpretation of a holy book. But it is, perhaps, the strength of their nontheistic beliefs that draws the label “fundamentalist” from some quarters, the feeling that they are certain they’re right, just like the religious fundamentalists who are certain they’re right about what God thinks (because it is, after all, written right there in their holy book for all to read).

Richard Dawkins and other “new atheists” have been called “fundamentalists" by opponents who argue that they are as certain of their belief that there is no god as fundamentalists are about their belief that there is a god. But Dawkins and the other “new atheists” aren’t really saying they’re certain there is no god; they’re saying that there’s no evidence for a god, and in the absence of evidence it doesn’t make sense to believe that something exists. If evidence were to present itself, these so-called “fundamentalist atheists” would reconsider – just as a scientist would reconsider a long-held theory if evidence to the contrary became available. As Dawkins put it, the atheists' position is not a fundamentalism that is unable to change its mind, but is held based on the verifiable evidence. I suppose one could say that the atheist’s – or the scientist’s – certainty that belief should be based on evidence is itself a fundamentalism, in the sense of a certainty about something, but that, I think, extends the definition of “fundamentalist” too far. If not, then I guess I’m a fundamentalist too.

The inability or unwillingness to change one’s mind regardless of the evidence (or lack thereof) is, I believe, at the heart of fundamentalism. One problem with religious fundamentalism is that the beliefs that religious fundamentalists hold with such certainty are unverifiable. There can be no evidence to confirm or refute them. There can be no evidence, for example, that God believes homosexuality is sinful; Christian fundamentalists point to the Bible as evidence, but, then, there’s no evidence that the Bible is the literal word of God, nor that there is a God. So people who are sure that homosexuality is a sin against God cannot be dissuaded by evidence about God’s attitudes (nor do they seem to require evidence). And yet this belief, like other religious fundamentalist beliefs, has caused untold misery in the world and, in some quarters, even death. That’s the other problem with religious fundamentalism – the beliefs that religious fundamentalists hold with such certainty are often harmful.

If it weren’t for the harm caused in the name of some fundamentalist beliefs, we might just say, oh well, whatever; some people believe crazy things. But the harm caused in the name of these beliefs is just too great to shrug off; and with modern technology, the potential to cause harm on a massive scale is sobering indeed.
So, what to do? Let’s first ask if we’re absolutely sure that fundamentalists simply cannot be dissuaded from their beliefs. Well, actually, no. There is evidence that at least some people who had fundamentalist beliefs eventually let go of them. There have been fundamentalist Christians who believed in a literal interpretation of the Bible who gradually came to doubt; there are some who went so far as to doubt the existence of God. There have been fundamentalist Muslims in whom doubt similarly grew. So the evidence suggests that fundamentalist beliefs aren’t necessarily cast in stone for all time in those who hold them. So even if it may at first appear to be a lost cause, we shouldn’t write off having a dialogue with fundamentalists.

Which brings me back to Amanda’s platform. Being a good Ethical Culturist, Amanda finds the answer in talking, “in conversation that tries to see similarities, even among those who seem at first to be so different that the divide gapes wide between us.” That sounds good to me, and I actually believe it can sometimes help – conversations that look for commonalities rather than conflicts can show people who see us as “the other” that we’re really not so “other” as they might have thought – and show us that they’re really not so “other” – that beneath any theological or ideological differences, we are, in the end, all human beings, and that implies a wealth of commonality.

But while there are commonalities, there are also differences. If we focus on the commonalities in our dialogues with fundamentalists, we may (hopefully) come to realize that we’re not two different species of being, and they will (hopefully) come to realize that too. But what about the differences? Just coming to acknowledge the commonalities won’t necessarily, or even probably, make the differences disappear. And when the fundamentalist beliefs with which we disagree are harmful, these differences matter.

Amanda labeled Sam Harris, who wrote “The End of Faith,” a fundamentalist, presumably because he seems so sure he’s right and because “his atheism … extends beyond personal belief into a desire to change the beliefs of others…one of the hallmarks of fundamentalism.” Harris’s writing of “The End of Faith” was motivated by 9/11; he wrote it because 9/11 was such a spectacular example of what can happen if fundamentalists act on their unverifiable beliefs. If a desire to change the beliefs of others is a hallmark of fundamentalism, then perhaps I’m a fundamentalist – because I desire to change people’s beliefs about a variety of things. I desire to change people’s beliefs about homosexuality being sinful or sick; I desire to change people’s beliefs about women being inferior to men; I desire to change people’s beliefs about this being a Christian nation. You get the point. Not all people hold these beliefs, of course. But I desire to change these beliefs in those people who do hold them. I desire to change these beliefs because I can see the tremendous harm these beliefs have caused – and because there is no evidence to support these harmful beliefs.

Sam Harris perhaps rubs some people the wrong way because he’s critical of religion – not only the fundamentalists, but the moderates who give the fundamentalists a pass, until something catastrophic happens. Which brings me to the question of criticism: Is there a role for criticism in the discussion of religion? Should we avoid criticizing religious beliefs because so many people hold them so dearly? One of the reasons I so liked “The End of Faith” is that Harris was saying things I’d so often thought but was afraid to say outright, because criticizing religion has been so taboo.

But as Harris and others point out, belief isn’t solely a private matter; it has very clear public consequences – not just in horrific events such as 9/11, but in the more mundane arena of our public political discourse. Harris documented some examples of this. We don’t want to criticize others’ religious beliefs, but those beliefs are affecting us in so many ways, even though we don’t hold them ourselves.

I guess I’d say that, while dialogue is a good and necessary start, it alone is unlikely to succeed at effecting the kinds of change that would really make a difference. We should talk to – and listen to – religious fundamentalists, by all means. But we should also do more. I don’t believe in shouting – literally or metaphorically. Not only is it unseemly, but I think it’s counterproductive. I do believe in taking a stand, however, when we believe it’s necessary – the way Amanda took a stand against the “God Hates Fags” Westboro Baptists who picket funerals. If it’s done in the right way – in a way that reflects our underlying Ethical Culture attitudes – it will, I believe, eventually succeed.

Recent history in this country reflects just how successful a combination of dialogue and taking a stand can be. I am heartened by the incredible progress I’ve seen in my own lifetime towards more liberal, inclusive attitudes towards subgroups in the population that were previously oppressed and excluded – African Americans, women, gays. One of the few advantages of being older is that I can remember how things were decades ago. I remember, and I’m astounded and proud of how far we’ve come. A debate about gay marriage was simply unthinkable back in the sixties when the feminist and gay movements began breaking barriers on college campuses like the University of Michigan, where I talked to other young women in “consciousness raising” groups and where I first got to know gays and lesbians as real people. An African American president was, of course, also unthinkable back then.

Fundamentalist religious beliefs, formulated centuries ago and immutable, since they are thought to be handed down by a supreme being, stand apart from the centuries of human progress in reexamining who we are and what we’re really about, progress that has liberated millions of people. Simply put, life is so much better for so many people because we’ve applied our rational abilities to assess and reassess – and because we took stands to say that, in light of our reassessments, things should change.

What Sam Harris criticizes, I believe, is the mentality that says that, when it comes to religious beliefs, we should tread lightly, even when those beliefs are the cause of untold harm. It’s a mentality that says that it’s okay not to question, and it’s not okay to question, when it comes to religious beliefs – even when those beliefs are clearly harming others. It’s not just that these beliefs (e.g., attitudes about homosexuality, about women, about doubt) strike others as strange and outmoded. It’s that these beliefs are causing harm – and not just minimal harm, but major harm. These beliefs don’t just stay in the minds of those who hold them; they affect other people – they humiliate others; they radically limit others; they kill others. They tell others to close their minds to doubt.

So, yes, I think we should open a dialogue – and, in the best of all possible worlds, that might be enough. But since this isn’t the best of all possible worlds, it probably won’t be enough, and we should do more – in a thoughtful, mindful, non-shouting way, we should confront the harmful beliefs and, perhaps most important, the attitude that has allowed such beliefs to continue and flourish for so long.

Let Them Eat Cake

I stopped this morning for my morning bagel at my usual spot...and saw outside the usual panhandler, bundled up against the cold. My practice is to not give money to panhandlers, but sometimes I offer to pick something up from wherever I'm headed. So that's what I did this morning--"I'm heading to the bagel place. Can I get you a bagel?" "Get me some cake" was the reply.

Of course I switched (in my head) into always-right Mama mode. Cake? You're sitting outside asking for money and you don't want some protein, some vegetables? Maybe a nice egg sandwich?

On the other hand, sometimes I feel like eating cake. So after a confirmation that cake was indeed what he wanted, cake is what I bought him: apple cinnamon coffee cake, because he didn't specify and because I thought that way at least there'd be some fruit.

It's a funny dance we do, reaching out to help those in need but wanting to do it in a way that's consistent with our values, with our needs. And who's to say we're wrong? I offer to buy food because I don't want my money being spent on alcohol, and I think that's fair. I also support homeless services organizations, because I know they're part of the real answer...that even apple cake is never going to solve the problem. (For a good conversation on panhandlers in the DC area, check out Petula Dvorak's column from a month ago, and for information on the very cool Housing First model of homeless services, read this posting from the NYTimes).

Every time I stop for a bagel, I ask myself what the right response is. What I'm realizing is that there might not be one right response, that connecting and helping in a difficult situation might not ask for a right, but just a kind, or a right-for-today, response. Maybe instead of getting caught up in exactly what's right, we should just buy the cake some days and hope that it's enjoyed. It surely won't solve homelessness and panhandling. It might make someone a little happier.

Philosophy on a Tuesday morning

Some of you might have seen a new series in the NY Times, called The Stone. It's looking at philosophical questions with a slant toward modern life. I must say I resisted reading it, not generally considering myself much of a philosopher...but I gave in this week. And it's great! So good I'd like to comment a bit on it here, and try to do so each time a new topic comes up. I'd love to hear your thoughts on the original essay and on my comments, too.

This week the essay tackled nihilism, the idea that our old concepts of morality are gone and we are now foundering with no way to move forward. The most famous example of this is Nietzsche's pronouncement that "God is dead."

The author of this essay debated two possibilities: that we have indeed sunk into nihilism and everyone who thinks otherwise is deluding themselves, or that we have actually moved past nihilism into a post-monotheistic understanding of the world where we find meaning in our own particular lives without the need to universalize them.

I'd like to think the latter is the case, and not just because it's a nicer view of the world. I actually think it's a distinctly Ethical Culture view, or perhaps one shared by a number of liberal religious traditions. It depends on the idea that we can experience our own truth without necessarily applying that truth universally...and it values the unique perspective that each person brings, a core tenet of Ethical Culture.

Of course there can be tricky parts to this post-nihilistic, post-universal understanding of morality and the world. As we acknowledge the validity of other truths, we can feel our own truth tested. But I think that can be a good thing--both because it forces us to constantly re-affirm our faith and our values, and also because it opens us up to the possibility of transformation if we experience a different kind of truth that holds more meaning for us than our own.

Is this wishful thinking? Can society really function as a community of people with individual truths, trusting and caring for each other despite their differences? The philosopher in me thinks it's an interesting question. The practical leader in me thinks we'd better work pretty hard to make sure.

Yearning for goodness in ad campaigns

Do you want to know how optimistic I am? When I first saw the headlines that the American Humanist Association (AHA) was doing an ad campaign that involved Biblical passages, I thought..."Hey, that's great! That's what I did in the class I taught last spring. They'll find passages in the Bible that speak to the humanistic impulse, like love your neighbor, and talk about how humanism and traditional religion share so many of the same ideas and values. I love it!"

I was wrong. I do not love the new AHA ad campaign, which actually juxtaposes negative passages from the Bible and the Koran with positive things that famous humanists have said, in an effort to prove that humanism has the real moral high ground over traditional religion.

The ad campaign was intended, I suppose, to be sensationalistic, and it's succeeded. People are certainly talking about humanism, and especially about the AHA. But I so wish the conversation could be different.

It's easy enough to find less-than-wonderful passages in any religious tradition, including humanism. Holy texts are created over hundreds and sometimes thousands of years, and one of the interesting things about them is that they display the range of human behavior. I love the Bible's psalms of lament, even some which are pretty violent, because they are essentially poems of mourning--and they truly do speak to the depths of grief that we sometimes experience. The Bible also has prophetic passages that are inspiring, poetry that is just beautiful and life-affirming, and plenty of humanistic ideas about our connection to each other and our care for the world.

But more importantly, I'm just not that interested in talking about all the ways humanism is different from traditional religions, all the things we are not. I'm so much more interested in talking about what we share in common, and about what we are. To me, humanism is about the dignity of the human spirit, the preciousness of life and the world we live in, our deep connection to each other. There are Jewish humanists and Christian humanists, Buddhist humanists and all kinds of other people who find the ideas of humanism to resonate for them.

I don't know that what I think about the new ad campaign matters much. I'm not a member of the AHA, and neither is my congregation. The American Ethical Union, of which my congregation is a part, has a national relationship with the AHA, but no control over what they do. But when I see those ads, I know I want to raise my hand and say they don't speak for me!

I'm not willing to cede the idea of humanism, though. It's too beautiful, too deep. It's about human dignity and cherishing a faith in human goodness, even in the face of evidence to the contrary. So I suppose what I want to say to the AHA marketing experts is: despite what you've created in this ad campaign, I'll keep the faith.

Everyone Loves a Baby

I was taken by the recent story in the New York Times about a new anti-bullying curriculum that uses babies to teach empathy to schoolchildren. The idea is simple: a parent brings a baby to the class every month for a year, and the teacher helps the children to experience life from the baby's perspective, to imagine what the baby might be thinking or feeling, to identify the baby's personality. Studies have found that the children are engaged and excited by interacting with the baby...and that they begin to understand their own different perspectives and experience empathy among their peers, as well.

The same day I read that article, I read this one, about a baby in a stroller who was separated from her mother on the DC metro. It was presented as a kind of sensationalistic story, and of course it must have been quite traumatic. But--also of course--the baby and mother were quickly reunited, the baby watched over by fellow train travelers to the next stop and then handed off to metro police, sleeping the whole time.

I say of course because there's something about us that can't help but care for a baby, I think. When I get within 20 feet of an infant, I can feel my face pulled into all kinds of strange contortions, as I play peek-a-boo almost against my will. It taps into that hard-wired empathy we all have, and it's difficult to resist.

And so I really loved the idea of using babies with children who might otherwise get a lot of practice in empathy...using our natural pull toward the littlest among us to encourage seeing different perspective and, ultimately, to cut down on bullying. As Felix Adler says, the human spirit really does yearn for goodness. And sometimes babies can help show us the way.

Saying Thank You

November has begun, and with it the flurry of "I am grateful for..." postings on Facebook. I participated last year, and I'm doing it again this year. I like the idea, of posting something I'm grateful for each day, and the way that it really does keep me attuned to the bounty in my world.

But this year I wanted to try something a little deeper. As clergy in a tradition that places emphasis on human relationships, I wondered about being grateful not just for something, but to someone. Sometimes my gratitude really does go out to the universe in all its mystery, but often there's a person who can be seen as the source of the bounty, a person who deserves my thanks.

So this November, I'm writing thank you notes. Schooled in the art from a young age by my mother, I think that thank you notes really are a hallmark of a civil society. But more than that, they connect my experience of gratitude to the person who's given me something. And they give me a chance to spread gratitude, to share my feeling of abundance.

I've been wanting to try thank you notes as a spiritual practice for a while, and this is the right chance for me. I invite you to join me this month. Spread a little gratitude around. They're like the best kind of chain letter: nothing will happen if you don't send a thank you note, but something wonderful might happen if you do.

Sanity Restored

It seems as though everyone I know was at the Rally to Restore Sanity this past Saturday...although of course I didn't see ANY of them because the crowds were so huge. My husband, daughter, and I walked through the slightly-less-packed areas and looked at the signs.

I had my favorites, of course, which included "Everyone needs to take a deep breath" and "God hates...when you go around saying God hates things." But what I really loved was the combination of equal parts earnest beliefs and wacky humor. For every sign about health care, there was someone dressed up in a goofy Halloween costume. And for me, that seems to be about the right ratio.

It's not that I don't feel passionately about injustice in the world--I do, and I feel strongly that there are some things that are so serious we must act. But I also know that if I don't hang on to a sense of humor, things will get so overwhelming that I won't be able to act. For me, humor is a key part of sanity.

Humor and connection, which is the other thing I felt on Saturday. Many of the signs were asking people to listen to each other, to stop shouting and try just talking. Humor and connection aren't unrelated, I think. Sharing a funny moment is almost as good as sharing a meal in the bonding-with-strangers category.

And of course humor and connection are both missing when the national conversation devolves into name-calling, pundits, and 10 second soundbytes. I want more people dressed up like Yoda and fewer people yelling. There. Sanity restored.