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.