ROPES' CORNER

Now that I've got your attention, let me expand a little on these views. Karl Marx claimed that "religion is the opium of the masses," and although I am certainly not a Marxist in my political leanings, I have to agree with his assessment. For a million years or more, man invented gods and idols as a way to explain the vast mysteries he saw around him, and to banish the fears that came with nightfall. These early worshipers couldn't begin to understand why it rained or snowed, why the hunt went well or badly, or why people grew old and died. So they invested their surroundings with mystical powers; every creature and object in their world had its own spirit, either benevolent or malicious, and had to be dealt with appropriately. They prayed to the sun, because it banished rain and cold; the buffalo, because it fed and clothed them; the cave bear, because it killed and ate them. Theirs was a primitive but pragmatic form of religion, and it helped them deal with a very harsh, unforgiving environment. If they pleaded for an end to the rainy season, and their prayer was unanswered, it was because they (or some individual among them) had somehow angered the sun. They would try to identify and deal with the offending parties, even if it took several tries. Eventually, the rains would end and the skies would clear, and they would believe that they had finally succeeded in placating their angry god. Early humans were certainly not the fastest or strongest animals in their world, but they were cunning, and they understood on some level that they needed an advantage, an edge over their opposition. They believed that their prayers and ceremonies and sacrifices gave them a degree of control over their surroundings. They couldn't have begun to understand that evolution had simply endowed them with large brains and opposable thumbs.

Eventually, humans developed what we euphemistically call "civilization," and their horizons expanded. They had a slightly better understanding of weather; not of its causes, but at least its cyclical nature. They stopped worshipping dumb animals and accepted them for what they were; dumb animals. But greater awareness bred greater mysteries, and a whole new pantheon of gods and idols. Since Earth was obviously the center of the universe, and man was obviously the favored species, those gods were very human in their aspect. They could be petty, jealous, childish, moody, and downright nasty; in other words, just like humans. They even fought among themselves, which was kind of a cool development. This meant that, if someone's prayers weren't answered, it might simply have been because two gods were involved in some disagreement. It might also have meant that the gods were busy elsewhere at the moment and just not paying attention. People living in those times still needed the existence of gods to explain natural events; earthquakes, floods, storms that sank ships, good or bad crops, diseases that killed children. But the sheer humanity of their gods certainly made them a great deal more entertaining than their predecessors. And if you think about it, a realm of gods with human failings probably comes closer to explaining Chaos Theory than our present monotheistic leanings.

There is a natural ebb and flow to the popularity of faith and religion. When times are good, we go with the flow and don't feel the need for prayer and atonement. When times are bad, we need some reassurance that things will get better. During the Dark Ages, things were about as bad as they could get. The vast majority of people were little more than slaves, famine and disease were rampant, and there was no indication that anything was going to get better. By that time people had pretty much abandoned the notion of multiple gods, in favor of one, all-seeing, all-powerful divine creator. He told them that he had his reasons for letting them suffer, but never explained those reasons. He promised them that, if they obeyed his rules and lived right, he would reward them in the hereafter with salvation, eternal joy and Heaven. This was the golden age of organized religion, and it lasted for hundreds of years. There was nothing in their daily life to give those people hope, so they turned to the church and its promise of better days to come. The abuses engaged in by that church are not the subject of this essay; suffice to say that they were many and ugly. But those people lived through unbelievable misery and torture during their lives, on their journey to the promised land, and that begs one question: if their God were truly so omnipotent and benevolent, why couldn't he have just made their lives a little better? Why did he see fit to put them through that? But then, this is the same creator who went from the Old Testament, angry, wrathful, piss-me-off-and-I'll-hit-you-with-a-flood God, to the New Testament, loving, forgiving, I-gave-my-only-son-for-you version. Go figure.

An educated society has two mortal enemies: dictatorship and organized religion. (Some might say that's only one enemy, but this isn't a political rant.) Both yield power very grudgingly, and when the populace becomes too wise and worldly the people begin to doubt their need for either. In the year 2000, it's no surprise that those countries where the church is still most influential and powerful are the least developed and educated. It is both a blessing and a curse that science has found explanations for so many of life's enduring mysteries. It's a blessing because it continually whets our thirst for more knowledge, and without that thirst our society withers and dies. We are and always have been a race of adventurers and explorers. The curse of our technology is that it has made us realize just how insignificant we really are. I've always been a little envious of people whose absolute faith comforted them through the worst possible times. Rose Kennedy lost three sons to violent deaths, yet her beliefs never faltered. I honestly don't think I could face the loss of either of my sons. I have a wonderful friend whose son was a murder victim, and her beliefs are very similar to my own; I don't know how she's made it. She must be made of tougher stuff than I. But it drives me nuts when I see a millionaire baseball player cross himself before he steps into the batter's box. Is he praying for a game winning hit? Or that the pitcher won't kill him with a fastball? Or is he just making peace with his maker, in the event of a worst case scenario? In any case, what makes him think he's more important than the thousands of children who starved to death in Africa last week?

I despise the word "atheist," even though I'd have to admit to being one. It's an ugly word with ugly connotations. Take a look at the latest definition of the word from the Merriam-Webster ©Collegiate Dictionary:

Main Entry: athe·ist
Pronunciation: 'A-thE-ist
Function: noun
Date: 1571
: one who denies the existence of God

Take note of the phrase, "…existence of God." You'll notice that it doesn't say "…existence of a god or gods (lower case)." The choice of words tells you that the person who wrote the definition assumes the "existence of God." A dictionary is not a place you'd expect to find even a subliminal editorial slant, but there it is. Our Pledge of Allegiance contains the phrase, "…one nation, under God…." Don't even get me started on that one; there are several possible reasons for those words, and I don't like any of them.

Religions vary greatly in different societies and parts of the world. I'm naturally most familiar with the Western world's practice of Judaism, Islam and Christianity, so this entire rant is aimed primarily in their direction. Although they've been at war for two thousand years, those three have far more in common than they have differences. Their scriptures are very similar, they worship the same almighty, they all preach (but don't necessarily practice) love, kindness and benevolence. And they are all trying desperately to come up with a religious explanation for every new scientific discovery. I admire their effort, but try as I might I simply can't balance creationism with evolutionary theory. I once knew a Lutheran vicar whose rationalization was about the best I've ever heard. He claimed that God had created the entire fossil record so that we'd have a challenge, something to investigate. In his mind, God intended for us to be inquisitive and hungry for knowledge, so he made dinosaur bones beneath the Garden of Eden. The whole idea that God challenged us with a huge lie is such a stretch it's almost silly, but he was comfortable with it. And it has the added advantage that there's absolutely no way you can prove him wrong.

Don't get me wrong; I do have beliefs. They just don't depend on a mythical God to make them valid for me. Of course I believe in love, kindness and benevolence. I don't believe in those things because it's going to get me a better seat on the soul train. I believe in them because we only get one crack at this life and we should strive for peace and harmony while we're here. If I proclaim someone is my enemy, chances are he's going to try to get me before I can get him. If I say I love him, he will either love me, leave me alone, or consider me so ridiculous as to be below scorn. In any event, he will pose no threat to me because I have not threatened him. Besides, I like things that make me feel good, and love feels a lot better than hatred.

Do I believe in miracles? Nope, not in the biblical sense. I've never witnessed one, and I'm sorry, but I'm a creature of the skeptical twentieth century. (Of course, I've never seen an alien, either, but I believe we're not alone in the universe simply because it's statistically very unlikely.) A beautiful sunset is a fortuitous combination of bent light rays shining through an atmosphere filled with suspended dust particles. It is not a wondrous painting rendered by the hand of God upon the canvas of the evening sky. My sons are miracles of nature, but their birth was no more miraculous than the hatching of an egg. Unlike other animals, I am gifted with self-awareness. I recognize myself in a mirror, and I'm aware that I'm going to die. Does that awareness endow me with a soul, or make me more godlike? Uh-uh. It means my brain works differently than theirs. Not better; just different. Besides, as we learn more about other species, we're finding that many of them exhibit characteristics that we've long believed to be solely human. An ape picks herself out of a photograph. A troop of baboons fight a war over territory. Elephants and dolphins mourn their dead. A dog, in a panic of misguided loyalty, refuses to let rescue workers near his dying master. My cats greet me at the door when I come home from work. Are they just hungry? I choose to believe that they're honestly glad to see me.