Canadian Mennonite
Volume 6, number 7
April 11, 2002
Faith&Life

 

Faith can be the solution, not the problem

 

Are religions part of the problem, or the solution, when it comes to the establishment of a just global society?

The critics have much at their disposal. They point to religious zealots who willingly fly planes into buildings filled with defenceless women and men. They point to equally zealous believers who have endorsed other planes to kill equally defenceless Afghan women and men.

Read any newspaper today, and then ask yourself: Will Jews and Muslims inevitably be at war in the Middle East? Can Protestants and Catholics in Northern Ireland be counted on to keep their fragile peace? Will India's Hindus and Muslims rampage against each other until none are left standing?

In the end, this melancholy tallying of deaths in the name of various gods does no one a service; least of all the divine being they claim to follow. Critics remind us that religions have long caused more grief than good. For them, the best hope for a truly global society will come when religious beliefs are discarded in favour of reasoned discourse. We call this secularization (or the "western project"), and many consider it to be part and parcel of what it means to be truly modern.

Many argue that, in fact, religious belief will gradually, inevitably disappear. They point to the decline of churchly attendance in cities over villages. Thus, they portray the Taliban as a pathetic last gasp that will not be able to stop the creation of a truly global, secular, culture. And good riddance!

Put it all together and you have a most persuasive argument. It also happens to be wrongheaded, at least if you accept the findings of a growing body of scholars. Their arguments are worth considering.

They begin with the simple and unassailable truth: some religions, or denominations, might be disappearing, but religious belief seems to be as strong as ever. A recent article in the The Atlantic Monthly has pointed to the veritable explosion of new religious beliefs in our time. It includes a bewildering array of newer Christian and Muslin denominations, including the Taliban and those very Christian evangelicals who seek to incinerate them. It includes more obscure faiths, including the "Cao Dai," which originated in Vietnam and the "Soka Gakkai International," which emerged in Japan. It includes billions of religious believers in faith-based organizations that are too numerous to name.

Nor are these simply the creations of distant peoples who have rejected the western project. Most of these new believing communities have already established global followings. Indeed, how could it be otherwise in an era of instantaneous travel via the Internet? It includes your neighbours; and in some form it might even include you.

What's going on?

Part of the reason, surely, involves a critical rethinking of what the best of western secular culture has produced. For example, one recent movie reviewer for a major Canadian newspaper described the top films from 2001 in the following manner: "These are elegant, well-made movies, but they are about (in no particular order) murder, revenge, desperate loneliness, betrayal, corruption, madness, loss, unendurable pain, and the total, inevitable annihilation of the human race." No wonder many are turning to religions old and new!

Others point to the tragedy that comprises the human condition in a way that precedes September 11, even as it includes it. Terrible, unexplainable things happen to people. Loved ones die. Everyone confronts their own mortality. Faced with an uncertainty about human existence that cannot be proven either way, Andrew Greeley concluded that humans inevitably want to "hope," and to have that same hope validated by a community.

The persistence of religious belief in our time suggests that Greeley was right. Others point to the important role that religious organizations can play in giving their adherents a sense of belonging-a visible community in a world that is becoming increasingly global.

These findings are particularly startling because they suggest the unexpected. Not only has the western project of secularization failed to eliminate religious belief; it may have prepared the seed-bed for religious revivalism to thrive in ways we can hardly imagine.

Does this mean that holy wars are the inevitable result of the human condition?

Fortunately, not all critics point in that direction. Rodney Starks has been the most vocal in rejecting the notion that religions flourish best in isolation from each other. Quite the contrary, he suggests that the pluralism of our present age can actually promote religious vitality.

Diverse societies constantly invite us to ask who we are, and who we are not. They allow people to create communities of meaning as well as mutual support, places where we can simply hang our hats.

The present international crisis shows how these identities can become mutually exclusive, and hostile. This will continue as long as we insist on approaching the world as "us" versus "them." It will continue as long as we insist on a future where we will all look alike, the so-called "MacDonaldization" of society.

But there are other images worth claiming. I like the one introduced recently by Christian Smith. (Is there a better name out there for an American religious scholar?!) Smith invites us to view our world as akin to a giant coral reef ecosystem.

We know that such systems can sustain a host of varied and complex life forms. We know that they can be highly distinct, yet also highly interdependent. Nor will the future of such ecosystems depend upon some dull and enforced uniformity.

If it's possible there, why not here?


-Leonard Friesen

The writer is chair of the global studies program at Wilfrid Laurier University and a member at Waterloo North Mennonite Church in Waterloo, Ontario. Reprinted by permission from The Record (newspaper serving Kitchener-Waterloo), March 2, 2002. The illustrations are nineteenth-century engravings of the Stoning of Stephen (page 6) and the Good Samaritan.

 

 

 


Forgive

 

Forgive my trespasses, my debts, my sins.
Trespasses, like territorial aggression,
shortcut across the neighbour's field,
curiously reconnoitering,
using others' property,
Forgive.
Debts, like financial investments,
unforeseen expenses, an over-extension,
reckless spending,
Forgive.
Sins, so dastardly,
So deliberate, so morally lacking,
Forgive.

My record of offering forgiveness
is not that great, Lord.
I will be forgiven as I forgive?
Seems good logic.
In practical terms, a weakness.
Where's the justice first,
the accountability factor,
the need to see change?
And thus I may forgive
but hold in abeyance
the finale of forgetting.

In the buoyancy of being forgiven,
the liberating, the rejuvenating,
I forget that the obligations
I was unable to fulfill,
that folly and self-will,
that unattainable righteousness,
meant cancelling, annulling my sin-
no talk of parole or conditional pardon,
just an absolute release.
I could wish this on others;
I want to forgive,
as I have been forgiven.

(Matthew 6:12, 14-15)

 

This verse by Alvin G. Ens is taken from his collection of 34 poetic meditations on the Sermon on the Mount. The writer is from Abbotsford, B.C.

 

 

 


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