The Fall 2015 Issue of the Journal: The Threading the Interfaith/Interpath Needle

The Fall 2015 issue of the Journal of Religious Humanism has now been delivered to active members' mailboxes and/or Inboxes.

Humanism is so often described as being in opposition to, or at best in a creative tension with religion, that the path of interfaith cooperation can seem highly problematic, and perhaps more trouble than it is worth. Yet increasingly, individuals and Humanist groups join with their religious counterparts on specific social justice and service projects, and simply to further the goal of living side by side, even if in an uneasy peace. The fall 2015 issue of the Journal of Religious Humanism explores these efforts from several points of view - from the humanist organizations that have embraced particular events and coalitions, to individuals of many persuasions who have struggled with what it means to work and celebrate with those whose basic perspective on life is very different.

There are eleven articles ranging from short reports on humanist participation in Washington's 9/11 Unity Walk, and the World Parliament of Religions, to a fairly lengthy series of commentaries by UU ministers of many stripes wrestling with the resources that get used when Interim Ministers from many traditions undergo training together. Writing about "God-Centered Atheists,"  "Lessons for Humanists from 'Night Vale'" (a mystical radio drama), and a "Year of Interfaith Service," our authors give personal accounts of the interfaith experience, some as full blown participants and enthusiasts, and some as part-time experimenters.

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Welcoming the Closeted

[Editor's note: this is the first of a new monthly column that Rev. David J. Miller is writing for the UU Church of Worcester, MA, where he is Minister Emeritus.]

If we truly wish to make people, and especially minorities, feel welcome in our congregation, it is not enough to sloganize “All Are Welcome!”  People will feel welcomed when we greet them by name as Pope Francis did in the course of his recent speech in Washington, when he asked his audience to pray for him and added, "And those who are not believers and cannot pray, please send me your good wishes."

Many non-believers hunger for the kind of recognition and inclusion represented by Pope Francis’ words.

In contrast, not so long ago a family member said to us in reference to our Humanism: “You are the kind of people who are ruining our nation.”

And I know a young man who was thrown out of his family home while still a teenager when he told his parents that he no longer believed in God.

And I know a person who was fired from his job when it became known that he was a non-believer.

To come out to one’s family as a non-believer may be to risk judgment, condemnation, rejection, and/or ostracism.

To come out as a non-believer in one’s workplace may be to risk discrimination or losing one’s job.

To come out as a non-believer while holding public office may risk political suicide.

And so, many Humanists, Atheists, Agnostics, and Freethinkers remain closeted because it is risky for them to reveal their religious/philosophical/life stance views.

I consider myself fortunate to have discovered UU churches as a teenager and to have a career as a UU minister: beyond the walls of the UU churches in my life, I have been largely closeted.  In the larger community, I have been reticent about revealing my true views on theological issues; but, in UU circles, I could be open and forthright about who I am and what I believe.

At its best, our church is the place where we can hear our names (Humanist, Atheist, Agnostic, Freethinker, or for that matter, Jew, Muslim, Hindu, Buddhist, Pagan, Theist, or Christian-who am I forgetting?) pronounced in tones of respect, acceptance, and friendship.

And especially for religious non-conformists, our church is an oasis amid the storm of passionate denunciation of non-believers that emanates from various outspoken religious and political leaders and news channels.

Now, as we reach out to the surrounding community with the aim of increasing the membership and strength of our congregation, I find myself wondering, “How can we reach out with a welcome to the non-believers in our larger community who hunger for the kind of recognition and acceptance that we know how to give?”

 

Rev. David J. Miller, Minister Emeritus
November 5, 2015

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Humanism, Like Mushrooms

When primates began to look at the stars in wonder, humanism was born. Far from the cliche of superstitious creatures huddled in caves, Homo Sapiens have from the beginning been engineers and artists, philosophers and scientists discovering how to adapt to our environment and make the most of our brief time on the planet.

Humanists then and now ask a question: What are we to do with the life that we have? The Humanist difference is that we do not accept ready-made answers. The ideas and ideals of humanism have sprouted in many times and places.

Among animals, human beings are unique in that we have developed methods to conceptualize time and ways to preserve and communicate knowledge and culture across generations. Humanity evolved complex social relationships and unique solutions to complex challenges, yet we are also prone to superstitions and hatreds—aspects of ourselves that must be transcended.

Humanist ideas are universal in scope and continuous through time, anywhere an inquiring mind has met an intractable problem or mystery. Rather than accepting the easy answers, Humanists never stop asking “why?” and “how?” Humanists are the empiricists, the questioners, the artists who push knowledge to the edge, then press on.

Chinese Daoism, probably the oldest continuously practiced human religion, teaches observation and acceptance of the nature of reality as the highest good.

The Charvaka movement developed in India in the 600s BCE) and appears to have been the earliest philosophy to embrace skepticism and reason in matters of belief. The Charvakas dismissed the supernatural and embraced a materialist, observational stance. These lines summarize their humanist stance which rejected the supernatural and an afterlife:

While life is yours live joyously;
No one can avoid Death's searching eye:
When this body of ours is burnt,
How can it ever return again?

Like many humanists, both the Indian philosopher Gautama Buddha (c. 563-480 BCE) and the Chinese philosopher Confucius (551-479 BCE) did not deny the existence of the gods of their cultures, but they did dismiss theological questions as irrelevant to living a meaningful life.

Though its origins are lost, Jainism is non-theistic and teaches liberation though human effort.

The Greek philosopher Protagorus (490-420 BCE) said, “Man is the measure of all things.” Like many since, Plato worked very hard to disprove this by asserting an intelligence beyond the material world. Protagorus insisted: “As touching the gods, I do not know whether they exist or not, nor how they look; for there is much to prevent our knowing—the obscurity of the subject and the brevity of human life.”

The Chinese philosopher Mozi (470 BCE-391 BCE) asked:

What is the purpose of houses? It is to protect us from the wind and cold of winter, the heat and rain of summer, and to keep out robbers and thieves. Once these ends have been secured, that is all. Whatever does not contribute to these ends should be eliminated.

This “going back to basics” has long been a humanist ideal. Mozi also said,

Universal love is really the way of the sage-kings. It is what gives peace to the rulers and sustenance to the people.

Like most Humanists today, Mozi condemned both war and the death penalty:

The murder of one person is called unrighteous and incurs one death penalty. Following this argument, the murder of ten persons will be ten times as unrighteous and there should be ten death penalties; the murder of a hundred persons will be a hundred times as unrighteous and there should be a hundred death penalties. All the gentlemen of the world know that they should condemn these things, calling them unrighteous. But when it comes to the great unrighteousness of attacking states, they do not know that they should condemn it. On the contrary, they applaud it, calling it righteous.

No one knows for sure how long the humanist tradition of Ubuntu has existed in Africa. “Ubuntu” means “I am well if you are well.”

Desmond Tutu says of Ubuntu,

You can’t be human all by yourself, and when you have this quality—Ubuntu—you are known for your generosity. We think of ourselves far too frequently as just individuals, separated from one another, whereas you are connected and what you do affects the whole World.

This impulse has led Humanists to embrace the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights.

The book called Ecclesiastes, among the scriptures of both Judaism and Christianity and written sometime around 300 BCE, reflects rationality and skepticism. The text assumes there is no afterlife and that living well in the face of endless cycles of time—“there is nothing new under the sun”—is the only viable choice for humanity.

The philosopher Epicurus (341- 270 BCE) wrote, “Rejecting the popular myths does not make one impious; preaching them is what demonstrates impiety.” Epicurus was a rejector of myths and a seeker after truth. He may not have written the following lines— that is debatable—but the idea is Epicurean:

Is god willing to prevent evil but not able?
Then he is not all-powerful.
Is he able, but not willing?
Then where does evil come from?
Is he neither able nor willing?
Then why call him god?

The Epicurean and Stoic philosophers of the Greek and Roman Empires were proponents of reason and observers of nature. Epicurus said, “Our deepest fears remain until we understand the nature of the universe rather than trusting one myth or another. Peace of mind requires the study of reality.”

As with the Charvaka, who reached their conclusions based on Hindu thought, the Mutazilites were a rational group that arose in Islam beginning in the Eighth Century CE.

“Sumak kawsay,” or “the good life,” is a contemporary popularization of the ancient wisdom of indigenous South American peoples. The focus of the movement is saving our biosphere from rampant development.

The Western literary and artistic tradition, later studied in the university curriculum as the humanities, also encouraged humanist thinking.

The Nineteenth Century French philosopher August Comte was apparently the first to realize that church could be done without reference to religion.  He worked at creating what he called the “religion of humanity.” Comte’s motto was vivre pour autrui, “live for others,” from which we derive the term “altruism.” Altruism remains an ideal of Humanism.

Comte was the direct inspiration for Felix Adler, founder of the Ethical Society, and John Dietrich, founder of the Unitarian Humanist tradition.

Philosopher Alain de Botton founded an “atheist church” in London in the early 21st Century, soon to be followed by Sunday Assemblies, with franchises in several cities around the world.

There is no patent on the concept of humanism, nor is there any lack of creativity among those seeking community outside of traditional religious concepts and institutions.

The essential is to take a hard look at form and function. Traditional religions take many forms in their congregational gatherings. What, however, is the function? Do assumptions about the supernatural in any way change that function?

Humanist thought stretches across time and space. Humanists live in the observable world. Twentieth Century Unitarian Curtis Reese once said of the idea of God: "philosophically possible, scientifically unproved, and religiously unnecessary.” That is the Humanist life stance.

You will know Humanists because we do not worship, nor do we pray, nor do we bow before the ideas, idols, or ideologies of our fellow Homo Sapiens. We live as global citizens in the cosmos. In awe, gratitude, and hope, Humanists know that we are one with all. We dedicate our lives to healing the planet and freeing humanity.

 

SOURCE

http://infidels.org/library/modern/edwin_wilson/manifesto/ch2.html

 

 

 

 

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On Not Flying Away: Humanism and the Afterlife

When I was a kid we sang on Sunday mornings and Wednesday nights—church night—and at revivals and camp meetings, “Some bright morning when this life is o’er . . . I’ll fly away.”

It’s an upbeat and happy song, by design. The song was written by Albert Edward Brumley back in 1929 and is the most recorded song in gospel music . . .

Just a few more weary days and then,
I'll fly away
To a land where joy will never end,
I'll fly away

I'll fly away, oh glory,
I'll fly away
When I die, hallelujah by and by,
I'll fly away.

Getting out of here is a central theme in gospel music and in the denominations of Protestantism that have developed among the poor in the United States. The Sunday morning experience may fairly be described as a reminder of, and celebration of, this promise of escape from reality.

All of us understand the impulse and we all know the feeling. The question is if we think it is possible. The number one question when people find out that I’m a Humanist is: how can you deal with death if you don’t believe in an afterlife?

The way I answer the question depends upon my mood. Sometimes, if I’m in a snarky frame of mind, I point out that the speculations about an afterlife vary so much between the various religions and the subsections within various religions that the idea becomes meaningless.

When I was a kid, I remember people in my church speculating about Heaven. What kind of body would we have?

Would we have a body?

Would we need to eat?

Could we fly?

What age will we be in Heaven?

What is a “glorified body”?

Will we be married?

Will my cousin who had both of his legs amputated have legs again?

The questions, I find, boils down to this: will I be able to talk with those who have died before me, people such as George Washington or my grandma?

The answer to that: it appears very unlikely.

Yet why has this idea persisted for so long in the human family? What do we want in an afterlife?

Is it that we want consciousness to persist?

That’s what Hindus have thought for millennia: that individual consciousness melds back with the universal consciousness. Transcendentalists such as Ralph Waldo Emerson took up this idea and called it the Oversoul. The universal, cosmic consciousness.

No one can say that isn’t what will happen. Yet I can’t help thinking of the worry I’d feel in that situation. What about the poor? What about all the little animals being chased and eaten by bigger animals? The view from the macro-level, it  appears to me, would to be pretty frightening.

Furthermore, what would be the morality if I didn’t care about the starving and the poor and the suffering . . . if I just kick back in the cosmic consciousness and say “ah!” and allow all the suffering to continue . . .

Consciousness. It does appear impossible that it won’t continue. But think a moment about reincarnation: the point of the process is to reach that cosmic consciousness, so we’re back to that problem again.

Did the cosmic consciousness set up the cosmos to operate as it does? If so, I’m back to an earlier objection: the rules appear immoral to me. There’s simply no moral justification for the fact that some people grow fat while others starve.

So perhaps the cosmic consciousness is trying to fix the problem? Well, whoa! Talk about “compassion burnout”! An eternity of that?

But perhaps the cosmic consciousness is jut there . . . simply being. Well, OK, I guess I’ll have to join it someday then, but I’m going with objections!

The idea that everybody goes to some blissful place implies becoming completely oblivious to the reality of reality. I simply can’t believe the argument that after we enter some afterlife all the ways of God will be justified and appear fair and balanced. Yes, the world is a beautiful place—for some creatures some of the time. But I’m a farmer. I’ve seen fire ants eating newborn fawns. In this existence I go get my shotgun and put them out of their misery. I’m not going to be content flying around with a harp watching that sort of suffering occur.

I choose the most likely followup to our earthly existence: oblivion. Reflect for a moment: each of us spent the first thirteen billion years of the existence of the universe in utter oblivion. And I, for one, have never been bothered by that rather extensive blank spot. So, why should I be concerned about another thirteen billion years of oblivion after my death? Or the infinity after my death? What’s another blank spot when you’ve already spent thirteen billion years in one?And, come down to it, we do go on after death: we’re carbon-based creatures. Carbon gets recycled. Each of us has some carbon that once belonged to Shakespeare. Most of us don’t have any carbon from Elvis . . . because he hasn’t been dead all that long. But the fact remains, we do go on, after a fashion, and that’s fine with me.

Now, if only someone would write a good gospel song saying something like,

Some bright morning
when this life is o’er,
I’ll be recycled.

I’ll become carbon,
glory,
I’ll be recycled . . .

Image credit: Access to Cloud / Ladder to Heaven, by FutUndBeidl via Flickr, under Creative Commons license Attribution 2.0 Generic

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The Tide of History Flows Left

One of my history-minded friends has a long-range political view summed up in three words: Liberals always win. Complex social struggles may take centuries or decades, he says, but they eventually bring victory for human rights, more democratic liberties and other progressive goals.

Look how long it took to end slavery. Generations of agitation and the horrible Civil War finally brought triumph for liberal abolitionists and defeat for conservative slavery supporters.

Look how long it took for women to gain the right to vote. In the end, liberal suffragettes prevailed, conservative opponents lost.

Read the full article at LancasterOnline.

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