The question, however, is not whether beliefs can lead us astray, as they all can, but what sorts of beliefs are most likely to lend themselves to respect for human life and flourishing. Should we see human beings as virtual supermen, free to flout any convention, to pursue power at any cost, to accumulate wealth without regard for consequence or its use? Are gold toilets and private rocket ships our final statement of significance? Or is it a system of belief that considers human beings all synapse and no soul, an outgrowth of the animal world and in no way able to rise above the evolutionary mosaic of which everything from the salmon to sage is a piece? David Wolpe, “The Return of the Pagans” (The Atlantic, Dec. 25, 2023)
David Wolpe’s analysis of the paganism that persists in the world today was not exactly the Christmas Day reading I was expecting. His article was a socks-and-underwear kind of gift, one that would never make your official “Christmas gift list,” but one that proves a necessary and valuable gift, nonetheless.
From Wolpe’s opening paragraphs, I was taken by his even-handed application of paganism to both conservative and progressive political views:
Although paganism is one of those catchall words applied to widely disparate views, the worship of natural forces generally takes two forms: the deification of nature, and the deification of force. In the modern world, each ideological wing has claimed a piece of paganism as its own.
Max Webb Senior Rabbi of Sinai Temple, Wolpe accuses those on the left of being “world-worshippers” who endow nature with sanctity, while accusing those on the right as being “force-worshippers” who hold wealth and political power as sacred. Of course, he generalizes both views, for he’s aware that there are individuals in both camps who refuse to worship nature or force. Still, he asserts that, generally speaking, “the paganism of the left is a kind of pantheism, and the paganism of the right is a kind of idolatry. Hug a tree or a dollar bill, and the pagan in you shines through.”
Thoughout his article, Wolpe reasons well and provides readers with many good contemporary examples of paganism and paganists. He does so, however, to raise more important questions about what we choose to believe. He concludes aptly by asking us to consider which beliefs are most likely to lend themselves to respect for human life and flourishing .
As I finished Wolpe’s article, the words of Martin Luther King Jr. quickly came to mind. In his “Letter to Birmingham Jail,” he writes to refute accusations from eight “dear fellow clergymen.” One of these accusations was that King and his followers were extremists. King’s responds that although he felt badly about being called an “extremist,” his disappointment was short-lived. He levels these words at his fellow clergymen:
Was not Jesus an extremist for love: “Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you.” Was not Amos an extremist for justice: “Let justice roll down like waters and righteousness like an ever flowing stream.” Was not Paul an extremist for the Christian gospel: “I bear in my body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Was not Martin Luther an extremist: “Here I stand; I cannot do otherwise, so help me God.” And John Bunyan: “I will stay in jail to the end of my days before I make a butchery of my conscience.” And Abraham Lincoln: “This nation cannot survive half slave and half free.” And Thomas Jefferson: “We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal . . .”
And he finishes off this refutation with words I’ve never forgotten: So the question is not whether we will be extremists, but what kind of extremists we will be. King asks if we will be the kind of extremists who love or hate, who defend or destroy justice. Decades before Wolpe began to write, King understood that the effects of extremism come directly from the belief system that girds it. Our beliefs can preserve and improve life, or they can weaken and destroy it. What we believe in matters greatly.
To a certain extent, I think it’s safe to say that many of us can respect the extreme devotion of those who live solidly within their belief systems. If respect is too postive a word, perhaps it’s better to use Webster’s second definition of respect: giving particular attention. We pay particular attention to those who live their beliefs intensely. Even if we vehemently disagree with their beliefs, we are often sorely amazed at the force with which they live them and die for them. Our world has been, and continues to be, a stock pot in which force heats some beliefs to the boiling point, scalding the guilty and innocent alike.
There have always been those who’ve argued that the ends justify the means, that if beliefs are worth living for, they’re worth dying for–and killing for; that violence and collateral damage are to be expected and accepted; that we must simply put our heads to the plow of our beliefs and not look back. In contrast, there have always been those who’ve asserted that the ends never justify the means and that we must live in the world, even as we strive not to be of it. History is marked with–and continues to be marked with–individuals and groups who promote their beliefs in disparate and often tragic ways.
As I aged, I became more convicted that high school students should be required to take a course on world views. The more I taught high school students, the more I realized how little they understood about the fundamental differences in what people believe regarding creation, free will, morality, life, afterlife, etc. As I designed and then taught a world view unit, I faced many challenges. Not the least of these challenges was the issue of exclusivity. No self-respecting high school student wanted to go on record and admit that every world view is exclusive; that is, that subscribing to the tenets of any world view meant that you must exclude tenets of others. I recall classes during which students asked questions like these: “Wait, does that mean that if you hold a monotheistic world view that you can’t believe in other gods?” “If you’re a Christian, does that mean you don’t believe in reincarnation?” “If you believe in Scientism, does that mean that you can’t believe in an afterlife because only science can give us the truth about life and death?” In truth, most of my students preferred a smorgasbord of beliefs–a mashup of their favorite tenets from different world views. Still, they came to understand that these views were fundamentally different and exclusive, that subscribing to one meant that you accepted it as truth.
I had colleagues who advised me to consider the costs of teaching such a unit–the professional and personal costs. They weren’t so sure this was a good idea and thought it was better to be safe than sorry. But I remembered my own freshman year in college, shuddering at how naive and unprepared I was to be confronted with professors who challenged what I believed. Sadly, some did more than challenge; they attacked, using their classrooms as bully pulpits to advance their beliefs. Unarmed and mostly defenseless, I lacked the understanding of world view differences that would’ve better prepared me to ask good questions and refute propostions. Recalling all my confusion and shame, I became more convicted that my students would be better prepared with, at the very least, a general understanding of how and why belief systems differed greatly. I wanted them to know that they would be challenged intellectually and spiritually. I wanted them to carefully consider what they believed, for as David Wolpe argues, some beliefs can lead us astray. And I wanted them to put on the full armor of knowledge as they made their way through postsecondary education and life beyond. I was preparing them for battle.
And though I’m certain I didn’t say it as eloquently as Rabbi David Wolpe, I wanted my students to examine a variety of belief systems, so they might decide for themselves which beliefs were most likely to respect life and cause it to flourish. Our beliefs provide us with strongholds, places to which we go for strength and inspiration, for truth and virtue. Behind the walls of such fortresses and in the company of fellow believers, we take refuge and prepare for intellectual, social, and spiritual battle. But may our belief systems also be sanctuaries to which we go in supplication, in humble examination of our own souls. May the penitent among us challenge the way we live our beliefs and continue to ask: Are our beliefs most likely to lend themselves to respect for human life and flourishing?
