Reede
February 9, 2004, 10:43 PM
I wonder if there doesn't exist a simple, if not multi-faceted, explanation for religion's longevity and proliferation.
Why discount the combined power of imagination (i.e. in the context of narrative) and denial--two very powerful forces in our psychosocial development. It seems to me, drawing on past research and introspection, that not only are we programmed to seek understanding through causal relationships, there also exists an innate desire to cling tenaciously to the simplest and most meaningful explanation. Psychological comfort, regardless of how illogical its manifestations, takes precedence over analysis simply because it feels good to have an answer, any answer, to the Big Questions, as opposed to wandering dimly through a vast and frightening universe of Unknowns. Ambrose Bierce famously remarked that religion is "the daughter of Hope and Fear, explaining to Ignorance the nature of the Unknowable".
The larger question, to my mind, is why haven't we evolved a mechanism for suppressing knowledge of our mortality--but perhaps this is a function most aptly served by religion. In order to navigate life successfully on a day-to-day basis, not to mention formulate long-range goals, you and I cannot afford to be distracted by death. And not only do we require such selective forgetfulness, we're creatures of habit desirous of predictability, despising chaos. Human beings do not respond well to chaos--this becomes apparent if you've ever witnessed a riot or read stories of animalistic tendencies supplanting common sense and compassion in war-ravaged environments. We can revert to savage instincts in the blink of an eye; we need psychological controls to keep ourselves and our neighbors in line. Religion imposes--pardon, has imposed--those controls by making sense of the senseless: premature death and illness, murder, war, natural disasters, et al. Justice must be served, and it isn't always possible in our lifetime, in our world; and so other worlds are developed for the exercise of our indignation and outrage, our grief and despair, our blighted hopes and dreams. Barring our material coping mechanisms--alcohol, consumerism, entertaiment, etc.--religion takes the edge off of life.
I say this as an Agnostic who has not relinquished my religious beliefs without a great deal of internal struggle to hang on to that security blanket. Superstition and logic wrestled--logic won, but by a narrow margin. I simply cannot reconcile reality with human constructs, no matter how comforting. I'm still undecided as to whether this is an intellectual strength or failing ;-)
My very modest hypothesis is that religion blossomed from creativity--in much the same way stories, paintings, songs, traditions, fashion, etc. have. One ancestor probably said to another (though not verbatim, of course), and most likely with an authoritative tone, since we are partial to certainty and have probably always had a healthy concept of Ego: "An invisible and magical person made this world and us and the animals and the ball of fire in the sky. The invisible and magical person will take the dead people away to live with him, or her--no, definitely him--in a beautiful new home if we bury them under the earth." Ancestor number two might've responded with: "Yeah, that's nice; that makes a lot of sense. Gee, now that that's settled we can worry about the important things: where our next meal is coming from, whether this is a safe place to stay the night, if soandso's baby will be healthy, if stretching this animal skin over a cylindrical container and hitting it with a stick while moving in a circle around the fire and flailing our limbs might be fun..." And then that ancestor told another ancestor about the Invisible and Magical Person, and that ancestor told another ancestor, and so on. The story was embroidered and refined, different tribes perpetuated different legends, they were eventually written down...you see where I'm going with this. I really don't think it was any more complicated than that. I really don't think it needs to be. As I've illustrated to friends before, if my mother would consent to break into my home every Christmas Eve and leave presents under the tree, I would still believe in Santa Claus.
We require so very little evidence, and occasionally none at all, for belief, IMO, because it is so very psychologically satisfying; and we do have a tremendous capacity for self-delusion. I think science, not to mention the role of globalization exposing various cultures to radically different ideologies and mythology, having disproven and debunked many of our pet myths and superstitions, has been a rude awakening. Perhaps only those possessing intellectual maturity and psychological stability are able to process and assimilate this new knowledge without suffering a nervous breakdown.
It's just a thought, at any rate.
Why discount the combined power of imagination (i.e. in the context of narrative) and denial--two very powerful forces in our psychosocial development. It seems to me, drawing on past research and introspection, that not only are we programmed to seek understanding through causal relationships, there also exists an innate desire to cling tenaciously to the simplest and most meaningful explanation. Psychological comfort, regardless of how illogical its manifestations, takes precedence over analysis simply because it feels good to have an answer, any answer, to the Big Questions, as opposed to wandering dimly through a vast and frightening universe of Unknowns. Ambrose Bierce famously remarked that religion is "the daughter of Hope and Fear, explaining to Ignorance the nature of the Unknowable".
The larger question, to my mind, is why haven't we evolved a mechanism for suppressing knowledge of our mortality--but perhaps this is a function most aptly served by religion. In order to navigate life successfully on a day-to-day basis, not to mention formulate long-range goals, you and I cannot afford to be distracted by death. And not only do we require such selective forgetfulness, we're creatures of habit desirous of predictability, despising chaos. Human beings do not respond well to chaos--this becomes apparent if you've ever witnessed a riot or read stories of animalistic tendencies supplanting common sense and compassion in war-ravaged environments. We can revert to savage instincts in the blink of an eye; we need psychological controls to keep ourselves and our neighbors in line. Religion imposes--pardon, has imposed--those controls by making sense of the senseless: premature death and illness, murder, war, natural disasters, et al. Justice must be served, and it isn't always possible in our lifetime, in our world; and so other worlds are developed for the exercise of our indignation and outrage, our grief and despair, our blighted hopes and dreams. Barring our material coping mechanisms--alcohol, consumerism, entertaiment, etc.--religion takes the edge off of life.
I say this as an Agnostic who has not relinquished my religious beliefs without a great deal of internal struggle to hang on to that security blanket. Superstition and logic wrestled--logic won, but by a narrow margin. I simply cannot reconcile reality with human constructs, no matter how comforting. I'm still undecided as to whether this is an intellectual strength or failing ;-)
My very modest hypothesis is that religion blossomed from creativity--in much the same way stories, paintings, songs, traditions, fashion, etc. have. One ancestor probably said to another (though not verbatim, of course), and most likely with an authoritative tone, since we are partial to certainty and have probably always had a healthy concept of Ego: "An invisible and magical person made this world and us and the animals and the ball of fire in the sky. The invisible and magical person will take the dead people away to live with him, or her--no, definitely him--in a beautiful new home if we bury them under the earth." Ancestor number two might've responded with: "Yeah, that's nice; that makes a lot of sense. Gee, now that that's settled we can worry about the important things: where our next meal is coming from, whether this is a safe place to stay the night, if soandso's baby will be healthy, if stretching this animal skin over a cylindrical container and hitting it with a stick while moving in a circle around the fire and flailing our limbs might be fun..." And then that ancestor told another ancestor about the Invisible and Magical Person, and that ancestor told another ancestor, and so on. The story was embroidered and refined, different tribes perpetuated different legends, they were eventually written down...you see where I'm going with this. I really don't think it was any more complicated than that. I really don't think it needs to be. As I've illustrated to friends before, if my mother would consent to break into my home every Christmas Eve and leave presents under the tree, I would still believe in Santa Claus.
We require so very little evidence, and occasionally none at all, for belief, IMO, because it is so very psychologically satisfying; and we do have a tremendous capacity for self-delusion. I think science, not to mention the role of globalization exposing various cultures to radically different ideologies and mythology, having disproven and debunked many of our pet myths and superstitions, has been a rude awakening. Perhaps only those possessing intellectual maturity and psychological stability are able to process and assimilate this new knowledge without suffering a nervous breakdown.
It's just a thought, at any rate.