Tag: Religion

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Can mindfulness influence our moral character?

Can mindfulness influence our moral character?

Andrew Fiala

Fresno Bee, Originally published 2013-01-12

Take a breath and slowly exhale. Unclench your jaw. Clear your mind. Be present now. Feel better?

A growing body of evidence suggests that there are mental, physical and emotional benefits to yoga and meditation. Some recent studies suggest that mindfulness can lead us to be more ethical.

A recent paper by Marc Lampe, a professor at the University of San Diego, argues thatmindfulness helps improve cognitive awareness and emotional regulation. This can contribute to ethical decision making. A study by Nicole Ruedy and Maurice Schweitzer, at the University of Pennsylvania, links mindfulness to “moral attentiveness.” They claim that mindfulnesshelps us avoid making excuses for immoral behavior.

This is not too surprising. Common sense tells us that we think more clearly when we calm our emotions by taking a few deep breaths. But perhaps there is more to mindfulness than deep breathing and attentive awareness.

The practice of mindfulness comes from non-Western religions such as Hinduism and Buddhism. When Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that mindfulness helps us touch the peace that is here now in the present moment, it is easy to forget that there is a complicated metaphysical and psychological theory underlying this idea.

Despite these exotic roots, Americans have embraced mindfulness. A congressman from Ohio, Tim Ryan, published a book last year, “A Mindful Nation,” which suggests thatmindfulness can help us work better, reduce health-care costs and improve the performance of the military. Ryan even secured a million-dollar federal earmark for mindfulness training in schools in Youngstown, Ohio, with the goal of using mindfulness to improve student performance.

I wonder, however, whether mindfulness should be employed as a tool for achieving the American Dream. There is something odd about using yoga to enhance military performance or meditating in order to improve profit margins. The core of mindful meditation seems to point in another more peaceful and less materialistic direction.

Critics of mindfulness worry that Eastern meditation practices cannot be easily grafted onto Western roots. Consider the controversy that erupted recently in Encinitas, a yoga-friendly beach town north of San Diego. When the Encinitas schools introduced yoga as part of the school day, Christian parents threatened to sue the school district. They view yoga as a pagan practice and demanded that their children be exempted from the program.

Some Christians have embraced alternative contemplative practices without seeing a contradiction with their own spiritual commitments. But other Christians remain opposed. In 2011, an Italian priest, Gabriele Amorth, denounced yoga as Satanic. The president of the Southern Baptist Seminary, Albert Mohler, described Eastern meditation as an “empty promise,” since it focuses on emptying the mind instead of connecting with God. Christian pastor Mark Driscoll argues that Eastern spirituality blurs the distinction between good and evil, “promoting cultural pluralism and the denial of truth.”

The claim that meditation results in relativism and the denial of truth is a significant accusation. Traditional Western approaches to ethics and religion focus on rule-following behavior and orthodoxy of belief. This requires clear judgment and an effort to distinguish between right and wrong. But mindfulness in Eastern traditions appears to have a different focus, as nonjudgmental awareness.

Jon Kabbat-Zinn — an influential proponent of meditation — connects mindfulness with nonjudging acceptance and letting go. The idea is to let experience occur without attempting to categorize, manage and direct it. A kind of serenity and peacefulness develops when letting things be, without judgment or control.

Proponents of mindfulness connect this with values such as nonviolence and compassion. But the serene equanimity of mindfulness can seem to its critics like relativism and indifference to God and the good.

There are obvious benefits to taking a mindful breath. We do make better judgments when we are able to step aside from emotional tumult and the reactive pressures of the world. But critics will argue that this is not enough — that the empty mind must be filled with principles, truths and moral judgments. There is a fundamental difference of opinion here about what counts in terms of ethical discipline and spiritual practice.

There may be no way to resolve this dispute. But it might help us to think better about these deep questions, if we took a few mindful breaths.

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Find Christmas Joy in Magic of Cultural Imagination

Find Christmas joy in magic of cultural imagination

Andrew Fiala

Fresno Bee, 2012-12-15

Some atheists sponsored a billboard in Times Square that encourages people to “Keep the Merry, Dump the Myth.” The word “Merry,” accompanies a picture of Santa, while “Myth” is associated with Jesus.  Bumper-stickers on the other side of the culture wars insist that we have to “Keep Christ in Christmas.”

Must we choose sides between Santa and Jesus? Why can’t we have our fruitcake and eat it, too? Christmas is a cultural mashup, combining stories and legends from multiple traditions. Kids who want to put Santa and the Grinch in a stable beside Mary and Joseph are a bit confused. But so what?

The cultural references jostle together during the holidays: Dr. Seuss and Charlie Brown rub elbows with Santa Claus and Jesus. Themes like love and hope, gratitude and generosity connect the dots of this jolly jumble.

Even the pope admits that cultural accretions matter. Pope Benedict’s new book acknowledges that there were no animals in the nativity scene of the Gospels.  But he argues that the ox and the ass at the manger with Mary remain an important element of Christian iconography — an interpretive addition with allegorical significance.

Some people want to refine our stories and images in order to get back to something original and pure. Neo-pagans want to return to ancient Yule and Solstice celebrations. Santa is a Nordic creation, after all. He has a lot in common with the Norse god Thor, whose chariot was pulled across the sky by magical goats.

Christians want to return to the original event in Bethlehem. But there is nothing in our culture that is original and pure — it’s all a mashup.

A few Christians reject Santa completely, seeing him as a sinister pagan idol. He is a laughing deceiver, ominously dressed in red. He gives children toys and candy, distracting them from God.

A few websites fret that if you rearrange the letters of “Santa” you get “Satan.”  Such word play does not enlighten. However, our fascination with word magic does tell us something about human culture.

We like to play with words and rearrange images. We conjure meaning even in meaningless things. This is what allows us to enjoy art and literature. We transform dots, lines and pixels into spirited beings, alive in the mind’s eye.

The joy of Christmas is the magic of the cultural imagination. Think of the effort expended by parents on Christmas Eve.

Some worry that it is immoral to foist the Christmas ruse upon children. But the desire to enchant our children is a work of love. We want them to play and enjoy. They’ll outgrow magic soon enough.

Magical thinking can be dangerous, especially when it lingers beyond childhood. It can distract us from reality — and it can be manipulated. Advertisers use magical thinking to sell us stuff we don’t need.

That’s why Scrooge called Christmas a humbug. He thought it was a fraud and a scam. But even Scrooge was swept away by his memories and dreams. And he overcame his cynicism.

Scrooge’s ghosts do visit us this time of year. Memories of Christmas past creep into consciousness with the smell of baking cookies. We hum along with once forgotten carols. The icons and images evoke a mood, even though we grown-ups know better.

The trick is to harness the images and moods for moral purposes. The goal is to conjure up generosity and grace instead of greed and ingratitude.

This is explained by Dane Scott, director of the Ethics Center at the University of Montana, in a recent essay about Christmas. Scott argues that Christmas provides an opportunity for children to practice generosity and gratitude. Scott also explains the magic of what he calls, “emotional fire,” the magic of ethical or spiritual transformation.

Good stories assist this process. Stories and images move us. Purists may think that only some stories count. But maybe what counts is the power of the stories to kindle a fire and soften our hearts.

Winter darkness breeds Scrooges and Grinches. If you discover hope in this dark season, it doesn’t matter much where it comes from. If you’ve found it, be grateful. Then mash it up and pass it on.

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Adventure Sports, Religion, and Extraordinary Experience

Testing of limits isn’t just for the adventurous

   Andrew Fiala

Fresno Bee 2012-09-08

I watched a group of hang gliders launch from Glacier Point a few weeks ago. The gliders leapt into thin air and swooped majestically out across Yosemite Valley. Unfortunately, the last glider in the group clipped a tree just after taking off. The kite spun out of control and careened into the talus slope just above the precipice. The crowd of spectators let out a collective scream.

I scrambled down the rocks to the glider pilot. His face and body were smashed, hanging under the mangled kite. He was groaning, barely conscious. Later, in the meadow below, I chatted with the injured pilot’s friends, imagining the beauty and thrill of the flight, while also recalling the horror of the crash.

I concluded, at the time, that hang gliding was crazy. But just the other day I crashed my mountain bike, flipping head over heels in a boulder field. A dent in my helmet shows where my head hit a rock. My legs and ribs are still aching.

I still love mountain biking and will go again. Even the crash was exciting. Maybe those hang gliders aren’t crazy after all. Or maybe it’s normal to seek risk and to want to defy gravity. Somehow the rewards — the thrill, the challenge, the novelty — outweigh the risks. The same fact might explain why people use drugs and alcohol, and even why people explore religious experience.

Human beings appear to need something more than ordinary experience — more than working, eating, and sleeping. When Karl Marx described religion as the opium of the people, he meant that religion provided an escape and consolation from a world of suffering and injustice. Marx thought that the desire for transcendent experience was the “sigh of the oppressed creature.” The same explanation might be given for drug and alcohol abuse. Real opium can provide an escape from oppression and suffering.

But oppression is not the only explanation. Rather, it seems that human beings are fascinated by the strange, the thrilling, and the extraordinary. We are curious explorers of the world and of consciousness. By pushing the limits of ordinary experience, we hope to experience wonder, joy and meaning.

The link between religion and drug use was explained recently by the neurologist Oliver Sacks in an article in The New Yorker. Sacks explained that we seek “transports that make our consciousness of time and mortality easier to bear. We seek a holiday from our inner and outer restrictions, a more intense sense of the here and now, the beauty and value of the world we live in.”

Sacks’ adventures with drug-induced altered states of consciousness is a cautionary tale. The highs of his drug-fueled “holidays” were followed by a crash: unwanted hallucinations, addictive behavior and possible psychosis.

Is it ethical to pursue such experiences — whether leaping off a cliff, exploring religious experience, or ingesting psychoactive chemicals? Libertarians will argue that you should be free to experiment, so long as you are not harming anyone but yourself.

The question of harm is a vexing one. Risky sports do not seem to pose a harm to others, except when the rescuers have to pull you out of danger. Drug use appears to be a private matter, unless you take the wheel or your loved ones have to deal with addiction and decline. And exploring religious experience seems unproblematic, except for religious experiences that turn fanatical or religious disagreements that disrupt families.

It is important to acknowledge the social aspect of even private choices. We should carefully consider the impacts our choices have on others, especially the strangers and loved ones who pick up the pieces when we crash.

We also need to acknowledge our desire for the extraordinary. Human beings have an exploratory urge and a desire for meaning, euphoria, and value in a short, uncertain life. That urge cannot be denied.

It would be nice to find safe venues for exploring extraordinary experiences. But the thrill of the extraordinary comes from the danger of flouting conventional expectations, defying gravity, and making dangerous leaps of faith. Those who make these leaps help to expand our understanding of what is humanly possible. They also occasionally remind us that what goes up, must come down.

 

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Religious intolerance: Politics is the problem

Religious intolerance: Politics is the problem

Fresno Bee, March 24, 2012

Is there one true religion or any reason to tolerate people from another religion?   I discussed this question with Professor Yehuda Gellman the other day in Jerusalem.  Gellman is a Jewish philosopher who defends the idea of “religious exclusivism.”

If you believe that your religion possesses the true and only path to salvation, then you are an exclusivist.  The opposite of exclusivism is “pluralism.”  Pluralists think that the world’s religions are each aiming in the same direction.  Pluralists want to include diverse religions rather than exclude them.

One of pluralism’s greatest defenders was John Hick, a theologian who died just last month.  Hick thought that the world’s religions had common “spiritual and moral fruits.”  He denied that any single religion had an exclusive claim upon truth or salvation.  Instead he thought that each religion approached God in way that is colored by local culture and tradition.

Hick quoted the Sufi poet Rumi to make his point: “The lamps are different but the Light is the same; it comes from beyond.”  In Hick’s own words, there is a “rainbow” of faiths, with each religion refracting God’s divine light in its own way.

Professor Gellman understands Hick’s pluralist ideal; he knew Hick personally.  But Gellman believes that the Jews have an exclusive relation with God as the chosen people.  Gellman surprised me, however, by arguing that exclusivists can be tolerant.

He argued that there is no necessary connection between exclusivism and intolerance.  An exclusive commitment to a loving and gentle religion can lead to peaceful interfaith relations.  If you believe that your religion is the one true religion, but you also believe that your religion commands you to tolerate others, then you should be tolerant.

Gellman embodies this tolerant and loving spirit.  He is a kind and thoughtful man, who is involved in interfaith work in Jerusalem.

Within hours of speaking with Professor Gellman, I was reminded that many exclusivists are not so generous or reflective, as I saw the video of Pastor Dennis Terry introducing Rick Santorum in Louisiana.  How disappointing that religious intolerance is rearing its ugly head back home, while I am studying it here in Israel.

In case you didn’t see it, Pastor Terry said: “This nation was founded as a Christian nation… there’s only one God and his name is Jesus… Listen to me, if you don’t love America, and you don’t like the way we do things, I have one thing to say: Get Out!  We don’t worship Buddha, we don’t worship Mohammed, we don’t worship Allah, we worship God, we worship God’s son Jesus Christ.”

Terry’s rant shows us the danger of religious exclusivism.  If you believe that your God is the only God, then it makes sense to lash out against religious believers who do not love your God or your idealize image of a Christian nation.

The problem here is not Christianity itself.  There is a tolerant and loving message in Christianity.  Jesus taught: “Judge not, and you will not be judged; condemn not and you will not be condemned.”  The problem is not Christianity but politics.  Politicians have used Christian ideas to suppress unpopular minorities since the time of Constantine, the first Christian political leader.

History shows us the danger of mixing exclusivist religious belief with political power, from the Inquisition to the Holocaust.  Politics and religion must be kept apart.  We should be outraged when a Presidential candidate nods in agreement with a preacher who says to the Buddhist and Muslim citizens of the United States: “Get Out!”

Gellman’s solution to this problem would be to remind us that even Christian exclusivists can find reasons within their tradition to be tolerant. Hick’s solution is to ask us to remember that there is a common source behind the rainbow of faiths.

I’m not convinced that there is anything beyond the rainbow.  And I worry that even tolerant religions easily become intolerant, when they become political.

The solution, then, is not religious.  It is political.  Despite Terry’s rhetoric, the real reason to love America is that it is not a Christian nation. The reason to love America is precisely that you don’t have to “get out” if you don’t like the way other religious people think.

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It’s difficult to see God in holy sites

It’s difficult to see God in holy sites

Fresno Bee, February 25, 2012

Since Biblical times, Jerusalem has been a place of violence and war.  Romans, Muslims, and Christians have each ruled the city.  In 1967, Israel seized the whole city.  But Palestinians and others still contest the legitimacy of Israeli rule.

One focus of continued conflict is the Temple Mount.  Tradition holds that on this modest hill in the old city, Adam was created, Noah made sacrifices, Abraham bound Isaac, Jacob climbed a ladder to heaven, and Solomon built the first temple.  Some Jews want to rebuild the Temple.  And some Christians support the idea, seeing this as a way to hasten the second coming of Christ.

However, there are two mosques on the Temple Mount: the al-Aqsa mosque and the beautiful Dome of the Rock.  The Dome on the Rock is built on top of the rock where Abraham supposedly bound Isaac.  Muslims believe that Mohammed was transported to the Temple Mount during his night journey—to the al-Aqsa mosque.  He then communed with Moses and Jesus, ascending to heaven from the sacred rock.

Last week, posters were hung in Jerusalem calling for Jews to go to the Temple Mount to “Purify the site from the enemies of Israel who stole the land, and build the Third Temple on the ruins of the mosques.”  Muslims gathered on the Mount to protect the mosques.  The police prevented Jews from entering the site.

This led to cries of outrage by some Jews, who claimed their rights were being violated.  Meanwhile, Muslims continued to fear that Jews were planning to violate their holy sites.  On Sunday February 19, tourists visiting the Temple Mount were stoned by Palestinians defending the place. Eighteen were arrested.

The violence of this week—minor by historical standards—gives me further reason to be skeptical of religion.  I find it difficult to understand how, in a universe that is infinitely vast, a single rock in Jerusalem can be all that important.  Why did God choose that rock as the focal point?  There is something too convenient in the way that all of these stories point to this rock, to this hill, and to Jerusalem itself.  There are surely bigger, more beautiful rocks and more impressive hills in the world.  Why would God come here but not to Half Dome?

This got me thinking about Rousseau’s discussion of religion in Emile.  Rousseau suggested that to discover the truth of religion, you would have to visit all of the world’s holy places.  It is not enough to believe the testimony of others.  You need to go and see for yourself whether the stories are true.  During Rousseau’s time—he died in 1778—it would have been impossible to undertake such a journey.  Rousseau concluded that since we can’t actually do the research, we should learn to tolerate one another.

Rousseau is right: the way forward has to be a path of mutual toleration and an end to religious violence.  But I don’t think he fully imagined what happens when you actually visit the world’s religious sites.  In these places, you see architectural and artistic wonders that human beings have created.  You see pilgrims and street vendors and tour guides.  But God is hard to discern.

I’ve been to the Vatican and the other cathedrals of Europe, to the Lama Temple in Beijing, to Shinto shrines in Japan, and now to Jerusalem. I visited the place of Christ’s crucifixion and the Western Wall, where Jews gather to mourn the loss of the Temple.  In none of these places have I witnessed anything more divine than what I have seen from the top of Half Dome or in the face of my own children.  In none of these places have I witnessed anything that is worth killing for.

Religious people will undoubtedly say that I am just not looking carefully enough.  That God is really there—in the churches and temples and rocks.  But I worry that when people see God in these places, they also see reasons to kill each other.  And I can’t help but think that if God could observe any of this, He would be disappointed to find that we value rocks and buildings more than we value each other.