Tribal religion vs universal religion

Those who study world religions and those who study, however casually, the history of religions in human history, are sometimes led to bemoan the divisive, destructive effects religion has had. The history of religious warfare certainly doesn’t inspire awe, except the kind implied by the word “awfulness.” Bloody fighting between Christians and Muslims, between Catholics and Protestants, between different sects of Christians, Muslims, and Hindus reaffirm many atheists in their lack of belief, and push believers into an unaffiliated, non-institutional approach to religious faith. One could argue that much of this sectarian conflict has more to do with culture and nationalism than true religion. I’m not an expert in this area, but I doubt that anyone could find irrefutable evidence that all fervent warriors in these religious wars were not motivated at all by religious belief or were not “true believers.” Religion might never be the only motivation for violent inter-group conflict, but it appears to be a very powerful one. I’m probably about to reinvent observations made by many others before me—and I’ll do some research to confirm that at some point—but I want to get my thoughts down first. Consider this exploratory thinking, not an attempt at a definitive thesis. My hypothesis? Religion that provokes, or supports, warfare is tribal, not universal. It doesn’t matter which came first, the religious belief or the tribalism. Let’s consider them mutually supporting, or co-relative. My argument is that those who engage in violent conflict with people of a different religion have a tribalistic religion. Their god is precisely that—their god (or gods). They have a deity who favors their group. Their deity is superior to other deities. Their religion is the true religion. They may or may not be interested in converting other people to their religion; they might force those they defeat in battle to convert, or at least to acknowledge the superiority of their god/gods and keep quiet about their own religion. They might engage in crusades or missions to bring their faith to others. Or they might just keep their religion to themselves and dare others to interfere, or look in scorn at those with inferior gods and religious systems. All of this can be done under the cover of benevolence. I know more about Christianity than other religions, so this no doubt happens in other faiths, but Christians have been very good at benevolent superiority and conquest. Because our religion is the highest, the purest, the most developed, we want to share it with other people and other nations or tribes. It helps when we have a powerful ruler on our side, of course—an emperor, a king or queen, the President of a global superpower. Under the protection of this civil authority, our religious missionaries can take the faith to those within our empire (be it political or economic or cultural or some combination of those forces). Those missionaries individually may be kind, empathetic, compassionate, peaceful, tolerant. They may adopt many features of other cultures; they may even become deeply interested in other religions and promote inter-religious dialogue. But as long as they operate within an overarching belief system that is tribal, they haven’t crossed over or been transformed into universalists. And thus their most benevolent efforts can get caught up in conflict and war, and they themselves are often some of the first victims of such violence. Tribalism can be seen within a religion too, of course. Those on the outside see larger religious systems: Christianity, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism. Those on the inside are aware, often painfully aware, of the many tribes within a seemingly unified group. It never takes long for a religion to start splintering into rival groups. I won’t bore you with examples. If you have been involved in any kind of religion in your life, or been near one, or read about one, you can list your own examples. The tribalism goes down and down, deeper and deeper. It’s like opening one Russian nesting doll after another. Take my own former sect, the Baptists. There are so many different Baptists I have lost count. I grew up Southern Baptist, which later splintered into at least three groups. And in small towns or suburbs, you can often find rival congregations that all claim to be Southern Baptist but who have nothing good to say about each other. Divisions can of course arise from differing beliefs or practices, but also from personality differences, loyalty to different leaders, fights over church polity, and fights over buildings and land. But does it finally matter? It’s all one version of tribalism or another. What I would consider the highest, truest religion, one that approached some kind of truth and enduring value to humanity and to the Earth, would have to transcend tribalism. I will call such a religion “universal.” I’m not necessarily talking about universalism, the belief that all will ultimately be “saved” or favored by the Deity/deities or end up in heaven/paradise/nirvana. I suppose a truly universal religion could realize that people will not all have the same ultimate fate or take the same path to enlightenment. A universal religion, however, would not be identified with a particular “tribe.” There would be no in-group and out-group, no true believers and infidels. This religion would not be identified with a single nation state, a single ethnic group, a single leader, a single prophet, a single name for the divine. This religion would draw no circles, however expansive. It would have no set of doctrines, no catechism, no statement of faith that anyone needed to recite, sign, or swear allegiance to. This is getting long for a blog post, which is what I’m aiming at. So I won’t go farther at this point. I know I’m begging many questions, especially with those last few statements. Am I imagining a religion that has no content at all? No principles, no values to live by? No truths? No guiding stars to navigate by? Am I simply singing John Lennon’s “Imagine,” imagining lots of negatives but no actual positive? Another objection might be that I’m imagining a humanity or a set of human beings who never have been and never will be, at least not in our lifetimes. “You say that I’m a dreamer.” I won’t deny that accusation.

(Jesus enters Jerusalem, Pandemic edition)

Jesus rode into the city on a bicycle—by himself. His disciples were at home with their families. Thank goodness; they had been wearing him out before this quarantine began. Arguing about who would become President of the Southern Baptist Convention, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the next Pope. Then there was Simon the Zealot, insisting that Jesus should run for President, that the nomination wasn’t sewn up yet. Jesus had tried to convince Simon to put his energies into AOC’s campaign for Congress. “Simon, if the Democrats win the Senate, maybe you can get me appointed to the Supreme Court. I’d love to get there before Ruth retires. But please stop being a Jesus Bro; you’re ruining my reputation.” But hey, at least Matthew’s tax collecting background was starting to look better: Jesus prophesied that taxes were going to be cool again after all this was over.

The road was quiet, and frankly, that’s the way Jesus liked it sometimes. He felt bad for all the people in their anxiety and suffering, but he couldn’t say he missed those large crowds. He supposed his ministry was an essential service, but folks would have to tune into his live stream sermons and catch him being interviewed by Seth Myers on Hulu.

As he approached the Temple of the Light and the Rock and the Glorious Media, he was astonished to see scores of cars in the parking lot and people crowding into the sanctuary. Jesus sighed, dismounted from his bicycle, and stood safely across the street. He yelled across to the people entering the Temple: “Hey, what are you folks doing? Why aren’t you at home? Isn’t that why your church spends thousands of dollars on TV equipment?” The people were startled and murmured to each other, “Who is this guy? One of those antifa people? Someone from the liberal media? Or just a kook?”

Finally their exalted chief pastor and CEO, Rev. Theodolphus Fuller, came outside. He yelled across to Jesus: “Who are you? Who gives you the authority to tell us we can’t exercise our First Amendment rights?”

Jesus said, “It is written, ‘my house shall be called a house of prayer, but you have turned it into a den of infection. I would come over there and knock over all the pews, but I’m not going near you people. Just because I’m the Son of Man and in my thirties doesn’t mean I’m going to risk Covid19. Tell everyone to go home and quietly read their Bibles, hang out with their loved ones, and listen to some good music, maybe some Bob Dylan or Bach.”

Indignantly, Rev. Fuller snorted. “I’m not going to put Anthony Fauci ahead of God. You must be the Antichrist. We won’t listen to you! Come on, my flock. Let’s go inside and show that we obey a higher law than the CDC. Oh, hey, good to see some of you have your guns! We might as well exercise all our rights.”

Jesus wept.

Reading an unpublished manuscript by a friend of mine reminded me how important generosity of spirit is in our world. This friend uses Rene Girard's ideas to show connections between Christianity and Buddhism. Generous actions and thoughts toward all other people (and all other living beings)reduces hatred and envy, replacing division with connection. What might this look like in today's world, especially in our divisive culture filled with anger, suspicion, mistrust, and incivility?

I'm not claiming to be a spiritual guru; it's easier to speak these truths than to live them. Perhaps, though, identifying some truths might help me live them out more fully.

As we enter a fierce election season in the United States, can we work together to solve problems in ways that benefit all people? Yes, candidates run to win, and we have to make decisions as voters that will result in victories and defeats. Ultimately, though, our goal should not be the triumph of party, faction, or group. Instead, what will lead to a more equitable society for all people? What will save the planet? What will promote life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?

I will end up voting for Democratic Party candidates in 2020, without fail. That's not because I am a team player. I've never considered myself a Democratic Party "member." I'm not rooting for them to win so we can all gloat at the victory party on election night. I will vote Democratic because I look for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all people on earth. Voting Democratic is only a means to an end. I will have to hold any Democrats who win accountable for their actions. I will critique policies that fall short of the ideals that matter to us as free citizens. I will be happy if some Republicans work hard to reform their party so that it too seeks those ideals. I will be happy if third parties and independent candidates are willing to work toward those ideals.

That's why I dislike the competitive nature of politics, even while being somewhat of a political junkie. I cringe when presidential debates turn into name-calling. I don't want Klobuchar to zing Buttigieg, or Warren to blast Biden, or everyone to ignore Yang. I want a meaningful discussion of issues that matter. I want honestly vetted ideas that will improve everyone's lives. As much as I believe our current President has disgraced the office, I don't want Democratic candidates to stoop to his level. I don't want anyone challenging him to a back alley brawl or engaging in Twitter warfare on his terms.

Moving away from electoral politics, I see applications of these spiritual practices in higher education, my professional setting. Faculty are encouraged to advance professionally, and that can be valuable, but it can also become competitive. I don't need to be promoted at someone else's expense. Faculty and staff should work together to advance the mission of their university or college, which should not be to attain glory in the USA Today ratings or on the athletic field, but to serve students and the larger community, and advance knowledge for the good of the planet. Narrowly construed promotion criteria work against such ideals. Competitive annual reviews and inequitable salary systems also degrade collaborative work. And don't get me started on the negative effects of grades and the competition created among students for limited spots in coveted programs.

Our neo-capitalist socio-economic system also promotes competition, often fierce competition, too often unethical competition. "Free enterprise" might be a good ideal to work toward, but not when it becomes a winner-take-all battle that leads to monopolistic corporations dominating industries and even professions. Freedom is usually illusory. Freedom wrongly conceived promotes the victory of the powerful and the clever, not the good of all. I have not seen a socio-economic system that works well all the time; I've seen evidence of many that work very badly. But in the US, we tend not to know enough about other systems to rightly judge them. We are so immersed in our system that we treat it as natural, as the best. It isn't. We too often blame "socialism" for evils that arise from corrupt politics, power-hungry politicians, military leaders, and business executives, and a global system that promotes inequality.

Whatever solution we come up with in healthcare, for example, should promote the health of all people, not the profit of a few. The same goes for infrastructure, our food supply, our environment, our schools, our housing, and so on. Beware of people who argue for "limited government" or "freedom from excessive regulation" when they usually mean "limit the government from interfering with my profits" and "don't regulate my unfair practices."

Can we work toward a spiritual public sphere, a spiritual politics, a spiritual society? Why not try? We have certainly ended up with an often unspiritual one, even a devilish one. Don't leave spirituality to the religious zealots or the naive spiritual snake oil salespeople.