Part of a series about My Faith Journey.
After I had my faith crisis, it prompted me to reexamine everything I believe in, including my views on God. Having deconstructed both Mormonism and Christianity, I was now in the position of wondering which of the numerous world religions might be "right", or at least "worth my time".
The Mormon church expends a lot of effort bolstering its "one true church" claim. As a result, the church discounts & discredits all the other churches / religions as "not us, therefore wrong". Lots of members buy into this. (I did.)
So, rather than engage in the time-consuming and potentially fruitless investigation of all the religions, I decided to go a little deeper and investigate why humans are inclined toward religion in the first place. I've always found a lot of benefit in the field of psychology, so I looked there. The most useful information I found was this:
The human body is a remarkable machine but sadly has numerous imperfections and defects. The human brain is no different. We have evolved to see things, not as they are, but as we are. Hence the attribution of some mysterious intelligence to forces we can't understand. We envision a God that look like an idealized version of ourself. We envision an afterlife that looks like an idealized version the world in which we live. We imagine living in that afterlife in a body that is an idealized version of the one we have here, etc.
Much of it is summed up in this video: Dear Believer, Why Do You Believe?.
I think I was born with the "believing gene", so I'm inclined to believe in something, I'm just not sure what that "something" is anymore. One thing I know for sure, is that I don't want to live with cognitive dissonance ever again, so I started with "what God isn't":
The Mr. Deity episodes helped me as well. They deconstruct God very effectively using humor.
I watched / listened to a fair amount of Christopher Hitchens YouTube videos which gave me a new perspective.
There's also this stand-up bit which contains some remarkable insights expressed via comedy: Letting Go Of God - Julia Sweeney.
As I was pondering on the nature of God and what he may or may not be, I reviewed Michelangelo's painting of God creating Adam. I had seen it before, but I looked at it with new eyes.
There are several, subtle, clues in the painting that suggest that Michelangelo wasn't an orthodox believer.
First, note the shape made by God's cape. It's the same shape as the human brain. (I encountered this idea from my viewing of the Westworld TV show.) This suggests that God is simply a construct of the human mind.
Numerous other people have already made this comparison, as this Google Image search reveals. It is worth noting that Michelangelo would've had access to cadavers to help him with his paintings / sculptures, so it is fitting that he would go into this level of detail articulating the various parts of the brain.
Second, God is floating in the sky, while Adam is on solid ground. God (inside his cape) looks like a thought bubble, suggesting that Adam is thinking of God, and further reinforcing the idea that God is a construct of the human mind.
Third, observe the similarity of the poses between Adam & God, especially the incline of the torso and the leg positioning. When paired with the above "thought bubble" interpretation, this implies that Adam is thinking of himself. The Greek philosopher Xenophanes once said (paraphrasing) If horses had Gods, they would look like horses.
Fourth, look at the placement of the hands. Even though the figure of God is higher than the figure of Adam, Adam's hand is higher than God's (and drooping to reach down to God's hand, no less). This subtly communicates to me that Adam is the dominant player in this painting.
Lastly, note the placement of the figures in the painting. Some languages (such as Arabic) read right-to-left. If Michelangelo were an Arab, we would rightly read the figures right to left and interpret this as God creating man. However, Michelangelo was a Westerner, and in the Western world, we read left to right. Reading these figures left-to-right, we see Adam creating God (in his own image, no less).
The Stage 4 person in me wants to conclude that Michelangelo was an atheist, and that he figured out the non-existence of God centuries ago. The Stage 5 person in me wants to read this a different way: that there is a little divinity inside each of us, and our depictions of God are an external representation of the godliness inside all of us.
One thing I'm retaining from my upbringing in Mormonism is the sentiment behind the phrase "I am a child of God": We each have a spark of the divine and possess godly traits that we inherited from our deific parents. (I believe there was an early LDS church leader who described humans as "Gods in embryo".) The Hindus had this figured ages ago out when they coined the term "Namaste", which translated means "The God in me salutes the God in you." (I explained my new views on God to some of my Hindu coworkers and they thought it was perfectly sensible.)
As I reflect on the good things that have come to me in life, and the good I've done for others, I have to conclude that those good things came by human hands. (Contrast this to the phrase "acts of God" that you see on insurance claims forms, which usually means that a flood or a fire happened.) So, if our hands can bring about "godly" blessings, doesn't that make all of us a little god-like?
Shortly before my faith crisis, I prayed very sincerely and I remember asking God, "Are you really there, or am I just talking to myself." At the time, this thought caused me great sadness, thinking that God wasn't there (especially when I believed that he had been there in years prior).
I learned of an American psychologist named Julian Jaynes was who wrote a book in the 70's which hypothesized that our ancient human ancestors used to have a "bicameral mind". In other words, the two hemispheres of their brains did not communicate with each other as they do now, but were separate; one hemisphere would issue commands to the other via an internal, mental, voice.
He further explained that we see remnants of this bicameral state in our modern minds that manifest as schizophrenia, intuition, moments of inspiration, or even mild hallucinations. The most common manifestation is as a "still small voice". Thinking about this makes me wonder if a future generation of humans will have this trait completely bred out of them and the idea of "voices in our heads" will seem totally alien to them.
There is some controversy surrounding Jaynes' bicameral model and it is not universally accepted, but I can see how he could make the case for it.
I'm now at the point where I acknowledge two truths: a) yes, I was talking to myself the whole time, and b) the divinity I was praying to was inside me the whole time; I have the power to answer my own prayers, both in thought and in deed.
A common question people ask themselves after they've left a religion is: Where will I get my morality from now? This often leads them to search for another religion or a spiritual / philosophical path of some sort. It turns out that the source of morality is closer than we think.
Numerous animals have adapted traits that improve their survival and help them to thrive. The most important trait that our ancient human(oid) ancestors evolved was cooperation. Humans are able to join efforts to accomplish amazing things, more so than any other species. It really is the human "killer app".
That inclination to cooperate brings with it a host of other traits that help to support it. If I'm going to cooperate with my neighbor, I really shouldn't kill him. If I steal things from him, we won't be able to work together. If I sleep with his wife, he'll get mad at me and we won't be able to build things as a tribe. There are also a number of "positive" inclinations we have: I should really look after that widow or that orphan or help take care of that sick person so they can help the tribe later on. The upshot is that along with cooperation, humans evolved... morality.
This is the dirty little secret: Religions have convinced people that they need religion to teach them morality. It's one of the biggest cons ever pulled in history and it's been played very effectively for countless millennia. The truth is, humans didn't get their morality from religions, religions got their morality from humans, and then they repackaged it and sold it back to us. We had (have!) that morality inside us all along.
One day I was listening to this Infants on Thrones podcast. The guest made this observation (paraphrasing): matter and energy are interchangeable (per Einstein's theory). That means that all the energy that makes up my body, and that forms my brain, was once energy, in some form or another. (There's a wonderful quote that says "We are the universe contemplating itself".)
That same energy may have been matter in another form. The particles that make up my body could've been a rabbit, or a deer, or a butterfly (supporting the Buddhist idea of reincarnation). I could've been an ocean once, or a mountain, or a star (supporting Carl Sagan's quote that "We are the stuff of stars").
Lastly, that energy, is eternal (per the law of the conservation of energy theory). It has always existed in some form or another, floating in space, forming into planets, being destroyed, and re-formed again. I listened to a Mormon Stories podcast featuring an Imam of progressive Islam who described Allah as eternal, supreme, formless, genderless, occupying all space and time, etc. That certainly seems to describe eternal energy. He went on to say that "If all the trees were pens, and all the oceans were ink, they could not write a fraction, of a fraction, of a fraction, of the mysteries of Allah". That quote applies perfectly to eternal nature of energy and matter. If energy could speak, what stories could it tell? How many different things has it transformed into?
I've heard Existentialism defined thusly:
Existentialism posits that the essence of the individual is concrete because it is determined by the choices that one makes. Because meaning in life stems not from a greater power but from the individual, the individual experiences Angst as a result of the knowledge that they have absolute freedom to exercise their own free will. Because all meaning stems from the individual and is therefore subjective, Existentialists are confronted with the Absurd. However, Existentialists believe that one's morality can carry one through encounters with the absurd. (source)
That speaks to me, and it coincides with a realization I gained while listening to a My Book of Mormon Podcast episode: Without humans, no one would be pondering the meaning of life, the universe, and everything (nod to Douglas Adams). Humans strive to find meaning in ourselves, our world, and even things we cannot see, experience, or comprehend yet. ("We are the universe contemplating itself.")
Without humans, without the lifeforms that evolved into humans, our world -- our universe, even -- would be nothing more than a series of chemical reactions, all neutrally valued and meaningless. Because life exists, because humans exist, there is a "human spirit" that wants to discover, explore, create, invent, solve problems, and make the world a better place. The universe has morality, meaning, and purpose, because of us.
That may sound like an arrogant statement, but I actually find it very humbling. I feel a sense of responsibility and honor knowing that I possess inside me the qualities that give the universe meaning. And the best part is, it isn't just inside me, it's inside every human (maybe even every creature) that has lived or will live. In the same way that no two people are perfectly identical, there isn't one, single, meaning to life. Rather, there is a broad, diverse spectrum of "meaning" and each of us get to discover it just by looking inside us, and externalizing that meaning through our actions.
We can find our own meaning in life. Whatever meaning we find can be unique, special, and important to us.
Thinking about the above points inspires awe in me. It satisfies my desire to believe in some form of godliness that is eternal and meaningful, and it doesn't require any cognitive dissonance whatsoever. That's where I'm at right now in terms of belief, and it actually feels pretty good.