The Paradox of Religion

Sermon by Paul Sharp

I recently participated in a seminar on Religions of the East, where the question was raised about the incompatibility of modernism with religion. Countries that demonstrate a high level of modernity, such as Western Europe, also show a much lower rate of church attendance and affiliation than less developed countries.

The country that seems to run counter to these trends is the United States, which has shown an increase in religious affiliation and church attendance over the past decades. But maybe the United States isn’t as modern as it seems. It’s pretty hard to think of the U.S. as a modern country when a sizeable percentage of the population, including a recent president, refuses to accept any science that might disagree with a book written 2,000 years ago. Perhaps modernism in the United States simply follows the pattern of thinking Gandhi demonstrated when asked what he thought of Western Civilization. “I think it would be a good idea,” he replied.

But not all modern and educated people reject religion. Because in order to have a meaningful discussion about religion and its impact on modern life, you first have to determine what kind of religion we’re talking about. Are we talking about the religion taught by a Jewish reformer on the hillsides of Galilee 2,000 years ago, or are we talking about the religion of the Spanish Inquisition which burned at the stake thousands of people who disagreed with their doctrines? Are we talking about the religion that inspired thousands of people to resist the deportation and extermination of the Jewish people during World War II, or are we talking about the religion that stood silently by and let those depredations occur? All of these religions share the same name, Christianity, but they are not the same religion.

Asking whether religion is a force for good or evil is a little like asking who is smarter, men or women. There is only one intelligent response to that question, and it’s another question – “which man, and which woman?” To answer whether religion is a force for good or evil you first have to ask, “which religion, and operating in which individual?”

The paradox of religion, that it can inspire the most selfless acts of compassion, and the most depraved forms of inhumanity, is rooted in the deepest of all paradoxes – that of human nature itself. Human nature is neither all good nor all evil – but both simultaneously, and it is up to the individual to choose which path to take.

The positive aspects of religion arise out of the better angels of human nature; our capacity to love, to grow, and share. Negative religion, the religion of hatred, intolerance, and persecution, arises out of the darker side of human nature – the fear of the unknown, indifference to suffering, and intellectual rigidity.

The Grand Inquisitor

The best illustration I’ve discovered of the paradox between the positive and negative manifestations of religion is found in The Grand Inquisitor, a short story within the novel The Brothers Karamazov, by Fedor Dostoyevsky. The story is told by one brother, Ivan, a non-believer, to his deeply religious brother Alyosha.

The story takes place in Seville during the Spanish Inquisition, the day after one hundred heretics had been burned at the stake. Jesus comes back to earth and walks among the people, and they instantly recognize him. There, in the Grand Plaza, a funeral procession for a young girl emerges from the Cathedral, and the mother rushes to Jesus, falls to her knees and begs him to heal her daughter. He touches the girl and she rises from the dead.

At that moment, the Grand Inquisitor happens by, sees the event and orders his guards to seize Jesus. So powerful is the Grand Inquisitor’s hold on the people that everyone steps aside as the guards escort Jesus to prison.

That night, the old inquisitor comes to the cell where Jesus is being held, and begins to interrogate him, but Jesus says nothing. There then ensues one of the most fascinating conversations in all literature. Jesus never says a word. In fact, the old man forbids him to speak.

The Grand Inquisitor reminds Jesus of the three temptations Jesus underwent at the beginning of his ministry. Jesus had been fasting for 40 days and nights, when Satan appeared to him in the wilderness. He tempted Jesus to turn stones into bread, but Jesus refused saying “Man does not live by bread alone, but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.”

The Grand Inquisitor chides him, saying that if he had provided bread to the masses, all the world would have followed him, ushering in a new era of peace and prosperity. “But you would not deprive man of that freedom; thinking what is that freedom worth if obedience is bought with bread. Instead you offered them the bread of heaven. And if for the sake of the bread of heaven thousands shall follow you, what is to become of the thousands of millions of creatures who lack the strength to forgo the earthly bread for the sake of the heavenly? Choosing bread, you could have satisfied the universal and everlasting craving of humanity – to find someone to worship. For the sake of common worship they’ve slain each other with the sword, and so it will be to the end of the earth.”

For the second temptation, Satan carried Jesus to the pinnacle of the temple. “If you are the son of God,” he said, “cast yourself down. And God will send angels to catch you.” But Jesus again refused, saying “Thou shalt not tempt the Lord, thy God.”

But the Grand Inquisitor tells Jesus that when man rejects miracle he rejects God also. If Jesus truly loved mankind, he would have provided them the miracle and the mystery they longed for.

In the third temptation Satan took Jesus to the top of a mountain, and showed him all the kingdoms of the earth, and their glory, and said, “All these things will I give thee if thou will bow down and worship me.” Jesus refuses, saying “Thou shalt worship the Lord, thy God, and him only shalt thou serve.”

But the Grand Inquisitor rebukes Jesus. “If you had taken Caesar’s purple, you would have founded the universal state and given universal peace. We have taken the sword of Caesar, and in taking it have rejected you and follow him. We have done this for the sake of your children, for the weak and sinful and rebellious who are unable to follow you and your teachings.”

“It is prophesied that you will come again in victory” the Inquisitor tells Jesus. “You will come with your chosen, but we will say that they have only saved themselves, but we have saved all. I will stand up and point out to you the thousand millions of happy children who have known no sin. And I will stand up and say to you: “Judge us if you can and dare.”

The Grand Inquisitor goes on to say, “I too was like you, and I too was striving to stand among your elect, among the strong and powerful. But I awakened and would not serve madness. I turned back and joined the ranks of those who have corrected your work. Tomorrow, you shall see that obedient flock who at a sign from me will hasten to heap up the hot cinders about the pile on which I shall burn you. For if anyone has ever deserved our fires, it is you.”

At this point in the story, Alyosha, the religious brother, interrupts Ivan. “But ... that’s absurd,” he says. “Your Grand Inquisitor is mad – it’s a mere fantasy.”

“Perhaps,” Ivan admits. “Or perhaps he’s speaking honestly for the first time in his life.”

“How does the story end?” Alyosha asks.

“I meant it to end like this,” Ivan continues. “When the Inquisitor ceased speaking he waited some time for his Prisoner to answer him. His silence weighed down upon him. He saw that the Prisoner had listened intently all the time, looking gently in his face and evidently not wishing to reply. The old man longed for him to say something, however bitter and terrible. But he suddenly approached the old man in silence and softly kissed him on his bloodless aged lips. That was all his answer. The old man shuddered. His lips moved. He went to the door, opened it, and said to Jesus: ‘Go, and come no more...come not at all, never, never!’ And he let Jesus out into the dark alleys of the town. The Prisoner went away.”

“And the old man?” asks Alyosha.

“The kiss glows in his heart, but the old man adheres to his idea.”

These are, I think, the most terrible and sad words in all literature. They are the essence of the paradox of religion, the fearful realization that institutions created to ensure the happiness of mankind could also be responsible for so much suffering in the world. But there is a way out of this dark tunnel and a way to resolve the paradox of religion.

Resolving the Paradox

Religion is normally thought of as composed of three elements – theology, morality, and community. While differences can occur in any of these areas, the area most likely to cause problems is theology or doctrine. For example, look at the split between Catholic and Protestant religions, which led to the wars that decimated Europe in the 1500’s and 1600’s. While Catholics and Protestants agreed on many areas of theology, they disagreed about papal authority and the need for internal reform. Today, there are thousands of separate religious entities, each proclaiming a separate doctrine, and all convinced that they, and they alone, possess the complete and absolute truth.

Since doctrine is the cause of so much division among people, the simple and most logical solution is to replace the theological element of religion with something more universal. That something is the concept of spirituality – the direct experience of the individual with the ultimate reality of the universe.

Spirituality is not only the universal antidote for the paradox of religion, but it is most likely the origin of religion itself. As Eric Hoffer explains in his book The True Believer, “A rising religious movement is all change and experiment – open to new views and techniques from all quarters. Islam when it emerged was an organizing and modernizing medium. Christianity was a civilizing and modernizing influence among the savage tribes of Europe. The conservatism of a religion – its orthodoxy – is the inert coagulum of a once highly reactive sap.” In other words, theology and doctrine arise only when a religion has lost its spiritual dynamism. Or as George Santayana once said, “A fanatic is someone who redoubles his efforts once he’s lost sight of his goals.”

There are, of course, difficulties in converting from a doctrine based system to a spirituality based system. First, spirituality demands active participation on the part of those involved, whereas theology requires only passive acquiescence. You can’t fake spirituality – it is the real article or nothing at all. There are no short cuts to spirituality – just as there are no shortcuts to a happy life or a successful marriage.

If you go back to the origins of the Christian religion, and strip away all the accumulations of doctrine and organization, you will discover that Christianity was simply an attempt to infuse spirituality into the Jewish faith. If you read the Sermon on the Mount, you find that there is nothing whatsoever said about what we are to believe – it is all about how to live and act in the world. In fact, the one class of people that Jesus condemns are the scribes and Pharisees, who had elevated doctrine above spirituality, and valued conformity over compassion.

The other difficulty of spirituality is that it leaves little room for smug self-satisfaction. One of the reasons that people join organizations is the sense of identity and even superiority it gives them by excluding others. If you’re a Catholic, you may be a miserable sinner, but at least you’re not like those awful Protestants who reject the authority of the Mother Church. And if you’re a Protestant, you rejoice you’re not like those Roman Papists who let the Vatican do their thinking for them. Whatever group we belong to, we feel that our membership gives us a certain inside track to enlightenment, status, and power.

But spirituality has no tolerance for such shallow thinking. I suppose you can do a form of mental jujitsu and take pride in the fact that you don’t take pride in your exclusive associations. I suppose it’s possible to rejoice in the fact that you’re exclusively inclusive, unlike those terrible fundamentalist who seem to hate anyone who doesn’t agree with them. But for the most part spirituality demands a form of tolerance and compassion that is incompatible with the division and conflict that is at the heart of the paradox of religion.

Many will say, “I don’t need a religion to experience spirituality, or to live a moral life. I experience spirituality whenever I’m in nature, or contemplate the vastness of the universe.” And of course they’re right. In fact, many religions, by concentrating on doctrines and theology, actually detract from your experience of spirituality. But a spirituality centered religion allows you to focus on the critical aspects of existence, and provides a forum in which to explore and grow that spirituality. And the addition of community provides an opportunity to share that experience with others, and learn and grow from their combined insights.

Once you replace doctrine and theology with spirituality, an interesting thing happens to religion. The interactions become much more positive. Morality and spirituality, for example, interact to form compassion. Spirituality and community interact to shape worship. And morality and community interact to foster justice, infused with caring rather than simply law enforcement. And at the center, the three elements fuse to form a more vibrant religion, one that is alive to new ideas and possibilities, and that celebrates the wonderful diversity of the human race.

Unitarians are uniquely situated to serve as a beacon toward a spiritual definition of religion. Not because they’re smarter or more compassionate than others, (although they are usually pretty smart, and generally compassionate), but because their entire faith is based upon a mutual respect and understanding of the beliefs of others. Because their religion is non-doctrinal, they are freed to concentrate on the spiritual aspects of religion, and in doing so, can touch base with the original function of religion – to help individuals find meaning in the universe.

However, being a spiritual beacon is not without peril. As the life of Jesus showed, and the shootings at the Unitarian Church in Knoxville, Tennessee dramatically demonstrated, the forces of intolerance are alive and kicking, and the Grand Inquisitors of the world still strive to impose their values upon the rest of mankind. All we can do is resolve that in our own lives and our own communities that our religion will be a force for good, and a light unto the world. Or as we say at the end of each service – “Carry the flame within you.”