Richard Twiss, a devout Christian of Lakota heritage, showed this spirit when spoke movingly of how the invading Europeans justified the genocide of the Native Americans by comparing themselves to the Israelites invading Canaan, a slaughter carried out with God’s blessing. Does the Good Book really condone genocide? It certainly seems so, on the face of it. Most Christians ignore that part of the book, or assume it is a metaphor for… something or other, or no longer applies, or whatever. But Twiss said no, no: we need to face this.

Twiss also joined up with Lakota dancers to perform and lead ceremonies and dances at the festival. He said, “These may seem pagan or un-Christian to you. But they are the dances that God gave my people; and I do not apologize for them.” Twiss is still working on how to reconcile the ways of his people with the Bible, which he still believes in, and which says it is the only way to God.

Phyllis Tickle, I think, summarized the problem most succinctly. Christians, she said, must answer three questions today.

1. What is a human being? Technology is blurring the line between human and nonhuman, and the line between male and female has always been blurrier than the church would like to admit. This creates a whole mess of problems — problems which will only get worse. Does a fetus have a soul? How about a clone? Could a transgendered man be Pope?
2. What is the nature of atonement and sin? What punishments? Is there really a hell, and if so, is anyone in it? If you die without Jesus, are you really doomed forever, with no chance of redemption? What about all these other religions, which seem to have good people following them?
3. What is the authority? Is it the church? Then which one? Is it the Bible? Whose reading of it, then? Is it in the hearts of the people? Which hearts?

What is Doctrine For?

Every religion has problems with doctrine — contradictory, vague, irrelevant, boneheaded doctrine. Perhaps doctrine must be this way, if it is going to simultaneously satisfy people’s desire for rules that (a) are simple and (b) work in the real world.

Elsewhere I wrote at length about the future of religion, and I argued that we are seeing a movement towards more organic religions — polytheistic in character, shamanistic, animistic, with lots of borrowing from other religions and cultures, and a relaxed attitude towards dogma. I tend to think that all religions evolve into forms of this sort over time; they more easily fit the shape of the human heart. If I am right, perhaps these courageous emergent Christians should give up their attempts to reconcile their dogma with their hearts. But then, would they truly be Christian? What is Christianity without its church and its book?

I have my own opinions. As a Zen-influenced Druid, I think of the story of the finger pointing at the moon. As was noted at the festival by Paul Knitter, who tries to be faithful to both Christianity and Buddhism: you may use the finger to find the moon, but do not confuse the moon with the finger. Doctrine is a direction, not a destination. Or, as the Buddha said, the doctrine is the raft to get you to the other shore; but once you are there, you can dispense with the raft.

Zen teaches that contemplation of stories (such as the famous koans) can lead to tremendous insight, and even enlightenment. The stories do not have to make sense: in fact, the crazier they appear on the surface, the deeper the insights that may be attained. Christian doctrine contains some pretty nutty, apparently self-contradictory stuff:

• Blessed are the meek (Matthew 5:5). Turn the other cheek (Matthew 5:39).
• Woe unto ye, hypocrites! (Matthew 23:27)
• Why do thy disciples… wash not their hands when they eat bread? “Not that which goeth into the mouth defileth a man; but that which cometh out of the mouth, this defileth a man.” (Matthew 15)
• It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. (Matthew 19:24)
• But when his disciples complained that he was living too richly: “Ye have the poor always with you; but me ye have not always.” (Matthew 26)
• Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called sons of God. (Matthew 5)
• Do not think that I came to bring peace on the earth; I did not come to bring peace, but a sword… A man’s enemies will be the members of his household. (Matthew 10:34)
• Whoso eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, hath eternal life; and I will raise him up at the last day. (John 6:54) Yum!

These are koans that would delight any Zen Master. Contemplation of these oddities and contradictions, holding both in tension and exploring the words in silence and humility, has brought wisdom to many Christian traditions. The tension between assisting the poor and celebrating the abundance of God has led to both worldwide missions of mercy for the destitute, and the artistic and architectural marvels of Gothic cathedrals and Vatican City. The tension between Jesus’s messages of non-violence and the wrathful vengeance of God has led to both the Peace testimony of the Quakers and the theory of “Just War” underlying the charter of the United Nations. The doctrine of the eucharist, which on the surface simply calls for Christians to literally cannibalize their God, is interpreted in many subtle and profound ways, most of which revolve around the sacrifice Jesus made for them and the presence of Jesus during the performance of the rite.

These are questions — koans — that Christians have been struggling with for two thousand years, with no small measure of success. But the old answers no longer work; and now there are new questions.

The bottom line, I think, is this. There are tremendous disconnects between Christian doctrine and the pull of the Christian heart. But at the Wild Goose, the disconnects were being faced and tackled, contemplated, and held, in tension, in humility, and in earnest seeking. The answers, when they are found, may be profound indeed.

The Christian conversation is getting down to business. It may yet be that the Wild Goose will lay a golden egg.

Oddments

• Alison and I are podcasting! Join us for an occasional discussion of religion, politics, and other inappropriate dinner conversation. Our first episode went up a couple of days ago, and is particularly hilarious because we decided not to cut it or edit it in any way, despite the fact that we had no idea how the sound quality was working out. 37 minutes of hilarity — and deadly serious conversation about the ethics of Tarot reading!
• Alison on mysticism in Paganism and Christianity, and why she went to the Wild Goose. ”I’m subsuming dualism into a mysticism of diversity, celebrating the sublimity of pluralism and difference.”
• “Thoughts weigh as much as stones, experience — as much as feathers.”
• “Boredom with life does not result from exhausting life’s riches, but from skimming them.”
• The end of ethanol, the rise of fuel from algae? It doesn’t address the root of consumerism – but… baby steps…
• I’m on Google+ now. Join us… it’s bliss…
• A gorgeous druidic drum design.
• When the US breaks up, will it look something like this?
• Recognition: If I had stayed angry, with my shoulders hunched and eyes narrowed, I would have walked right by the heron.
• Quotes:
  • A few minutes ago every tree was bowing to the roaring storm. But though these trees are now silent, their songs never cease. – John Muir
  • Anarchism is the observation that few men are wise enough to rule themselves, and even fewer wise enough to rule others. – Edward Abbey
  • A calmed body is kindling for the dancing flame of Awen. A still flame pulls taut towards the gods above the wild, dancing body, holy earth. – Ali
  • Enjoy yourself, keep your brain and body active and alive, and I promise you this: one sweet victory for life and wilderness. – Edward Abbey
  • Logic: The art of thinking and reasoning in strict accordance with the limitations and incapacities of the human misunderstanding. – Bierce
  • May your trails be crooked, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise above the clouds. – Edward Abbey

Similar Posts

• The Druid and the Wild Goose I: Christians Courageous
• Musings on Wild and Goose
• How to Raise Children Spiritually
• A High School Student Asks About Druidism
• Six Arguments Against Religion IV: We’re Not Like Those ‘People’
• The Christian Sword: Evil Christianity
• Six Arguments Against Religion II: Hypocrisy

I was raised with a sort of American Zen / New Age philosophy. But growing up in the American Southeast, I met a lot of Christians. Christians I’ve known well mostly fall into a few well-defined categories:

1. Christians who are devout, and concerned about the fate of my soul, and actively trying to convert me. For the most part, these are family members. There are, of course, devout Christians outside my family who try to convert me, but I never get to know them well, thank the gods.
2. Christians who are devout, and probably concerned about the fate of my soul, but are more interested in me as a human being they can relate to. These folks generally avoid discussing religion with me, because that might be awkward, and imperil our friendship.
3. Christians who are not particularly devout, or religious at all; or perhaps they’re spiritual-but-not-religious. Again, these folks are more interested in our friendship than the fate of my eternal soul (or theirs).
4. The rarest type: Christians who are devout, but cognizant of the place of Christianity as one faith among many, and comfortable enough with their spirituality to openly and easily discuss theology with me without trying to convince me. When we discuss religion, which is awesome, we mostly tell about our personal experiences, listen without judgement, and walk rather gingerly on our common ground.

But at the Wild Goose I met devout Christians who not only discussed theology openly, and were conscious of Christianity’s changing status in western culture, but dove deep into areas where they were uncertain. That takes courage.

Courageous Questions

The Wild Goose was a large festival with many different sects and sub-faiths represented, and it’s not my intent to survey it all here. You can learn more about it at the web site and from the other people blogging about it, especially my amazing fiancée, who’s doing a big three-part series on the festival. But, if I may be allowed to summarize and simplify, everyone there agreed that Christianity is at a crossroads. It cannot continue as it has.

There are too many questions — about the environment, poverty, the status of the LGBTQ community, abortion, war and peace, etc. etc. — questions that the old church authority and traditional interpretations of the Bible no longer answer to everyone’s satisfaction. And this dissatisfaction has been driving people away from Christianity.

But — and this is important! — the Christians at this festival were not asking, How can we bring these people back to the Church? No, instead they asked, How can Christianity answer these questions deeply, insightfully, and compassionately, without losing its Christian-ness?

Asking that kind of question takes tremendous courage. The answers will take you away from dogma, and also away from your comfort area, towards truth.

Morality’s Wellspring

These are questions about right and wrong. But the thing about morality is that regardless of your religion, usually your ideas about right and wrong come from your family or your peers, not from your good book or church authority.

This statement is liable to be controversial, so let me go a bit deeper into it.

For example, most Catholics in America today approve of the idea of homosexual marriage. Why did they decide this? The church didn’t tell them, and they didn’t get it from the Bible. Most likely it’s just a reflection of the strong recent general trend in America towards approval of equal marriage rights.

Another, perhaps more surprising, example. When most people think of family values (monogamy, abstinence before marriage, and avoidance of adultery, divorce, promiscuity, and remarriage) they often think of fundamentalist Christianity; but in fact most of the earliest Christians — the Greeks and Romans — lived in a much more freewheeling society. Around the time of Jesus, divorce, remarriage, adultery, and children outside of wedlock had become quite common, especially among the upper classes, and the pagan emperor Augustus felt it necessary to impose harsh penalties on those who broke their marriage vows. Things continued to grow more relaxed and easygoing over the ensuing centuries, as Christianity spread and the Empire became officially Christian.

So where did “Christian family values” come from? From the invading pagan Germanic tribespeople, who toppled the Empire as they converted to Christianity. They felt the Christian Romans, with their sex and children outside of wedlock, and their easy divorce and remarriage, and women with almost the same rights as men, were decadent. It was they who believed most strongly in the family values still held so dear by their fundamentalist Christian descendants today. You can read a few more details here.

So for most people, the wellspring of moral feeling is friends and family, not church. Even Richard Rohr, a Franciscan friar, said at the Wild Goose: “Culture, not religion, forms morality.”

Of course morality can come from other places too. Compelling personal experience obviously shapes one’s moral character: if you are raised to think women or blacks or Mexicans are lazy and stupid, but then go out into the world and see counterexamples everywhere, you will (with luck) be compelled to change your moral stance on prejudice. And sometimes, I believe, Spirit itself can reach into your heart and lead you to a new moral horizon (Carl McColman, a Catholic contemplative author, spoke movingly on this topic at the festival).

But regardless of where your heart finds its moral center, it almost never comes directly from church authority or a Good Book. And this leaves you with a quandary: because, if you want to call yourself a good Christian, or a good Buddhist or Muslim or whatever, you have to bow to the authority and swear by the book.

What most people do is just ignore the parts of the doctrine they don’t agree with, and hope it will go away.

But the Christians at the Wild Goose were not satisfied to do that. They had the courage to look their doctrine in the eye and say, “I believe. But we need to talk.”

In the second part of this post, I’ll give examples of conversation with doctrine, and ask what doctrine is really for.

Similar Posts

• Musings on Wild and Goose
• The Druid and the Wild Goose II: Conversation With Doctrine
• Six Arguments Against Religion V: Regulating Virtue and Selling Salvation
• A High School Student Asks About Druidism
• Six Arguments Against Religion IV: We’re Not Like Those ‘People’
• Don’t You Go to Church?
• The Christian Sword: Evil Christianity

Cu wanders the house at random, mostly sleeping or looking out the window or playing with his toys. Sometimes he comes over to us for pets. Sometimes he stalks us and attacks us. And sometimes he does things we just don’t understand. For example, he watches the birds intently, and makes odd little chirping noises, as if he were trying to sing with them. He brings his stuffed tiger to us, mewing plaintively for no reason we can see.

We feed him in the morning, and he thanks us by purring and rubbing his head against our hands. We pick him up and cuddle him until he gets fed up and wiggles free. We play with him, throwing his ball so that he can chase it up and down the stairs. He sleeps in our bed sometimes. He follows us from room to room — not to get attention, or to watch us, but simply to be near us. He also likes his stuffed tiger toy, although it’s a little confusing whether, in Cu’s universe, Tiger is a sibling, a friend, or maybe… something more. (But Cu doesn’t get too “involved” with Tiger, because Cu has been to the vet.)

It’s odd, when you think about it — this whole “having a pet” thing. Of course we love him, and we’re pretty sure he loves us, in his way. But what other animals on earth “keep pets”?

I Don’t Work With Children or Animals

Well, depending on what exactly you mean by “pet”, the answer appears to be “none of them.” Humans are the only ones. In fact, not all cultures have pets — many languages have no word for the concept — and there’s tremendous variability in what kinds of animals are kept as pets, what kinds are eaten, and what kinds are farm animals. In some cultures, the line between ‘pet’ and ‘food animal’ doesn’t exist: they routinely kill and eat their pets. And in some cultures, the line between ‘pet’ and ‘child’ is rather fuzzy: women will actually breastfeed pigs, puppies, monkeys, and even bear cubs.

The fact that only humans have pets, and that there’s so much cultural variability, points to the hypothesis that pet-keeping is one part biology, one part culture. The biology part comes from our natural child-rearing instincts: we’re drawn to adore and care for things with big eyes, large heads, and so on. The cultural part is more random, and depends on what kinds of animals are nearby, how much extra food and time we have available to devote to pets, whether our culture has farm or herd animals, and so on.

Cities and Kitties

When people think about the way civilization began, and How Man rose up above His Primal Nature to take Stewardship of the Earth, or whatever, they usually think about agriculture, toolmaking, language and writing, irrigation systems, and so on. Pets don’t often play a big role. But I tend to think that our relationship with animals was essential, and shaped the progress and form of human civilization.

Ox-Powered

First, animal domestication allowed for large-scale agriculture. An ox can plow a lot more field than a person can. Without oxen, how could a small population of farmers feed a large city? (In areas where there were no such animals, such as the Americas, cities were smaller and took much longer to develop.)

Deadly Bugs

Second, all the worst epidemics have started with our pets, our farm animals or the parasitic animals that live among us; and disease has played a crucial role in history. Things would have turned out vastly differently if the Eurasians hadn’t had biological warfare on their side when they invaded the New World; and if Jared Diamond is to be believed, the epidemics which killed 90% of the American population were fostered by animal husbandry, which was much more common in Eurasian societies than in American societies. The Native Americans did not have cows, sheep, goats, horses, pigs, donkeys, cats, rabbits, chickens, or just about any other domesticated animals except dogs; and so their immune systems were unprepared.

Human Husbandry

Third, more controversially, the techniques of domestication work on humans as well as animals. Animals are most easily domesticated if they are not too aggressive, not too prone to panic and scatter, and have an instinctive social organization which can be leveraged by humans. The horse, for example, has an independent spirit, but a wild horse will not attack or flee from humans on sight, and their rigid social structure — in which a dominance hierarchy is instinctive — allows them to be coaxed into obeying a human’s commands, even though it is much stronger and faster than a human. But all of this applies to people as well as animals. How much of the knowledge gained from herding and animal husbandry was used by the first kings in the establishment of the first city-states?

The Gods of Dogs

Finally — and I don’t think most of my readers will agree with me here, but bear with me — I wonder if keeping pets, particularly carnivorous pets such as cats and dogs, has contributed to the sense of human exceptionalism that is so poisonous to our societies. After all, if we humans keep other animals as pets — and nobody keeps us as pets — how can we help but feel special? How can we help but think we’re exceptional? How can we help but think that, surely, the gods have chosen us as gardeners and guardians of this green Earth? And carnivores! Animals that are never eaten by other animals — the undisputed kings of the food chain. We’re above even them! To the cats and dogs, we are the gods.

Well… to the dogs, horses, pigs, goats, and sheep, anyway. To cats, to Cu, we’re just the large herbivores who share the house. Cu loves us, he likes spending time with us, he’s happy to be fed, but it’s quite clear he is his own master. Perhaps the best cure for the curse of human exceptionalism is a cat.

Oddments

• Northern Pass: stop the new power lines project in NH. “It would destroy my place of worship.”
• Mind reading, solitude, and living memory. Jack Daniels Makes You Telepathic.
• For Sarah Palin, the American Revolution is the Bible (Part II).
• Quotes:
  • The way to become rich is to put all your eggs in one basket and then watch that basket. – Andrew Carnegie
  • The tribe has elected you to tell its story. You are the shaman / healer, that’s what the storyteller is. – Ben Kingsley

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• The Source of Human Intelligence
• Four Small Children, One Long Drive, Zero Televisions
• Ruminations Under an Oak
• Defining Paganism IV: Is Paganism a Religion?
• The Structure of Consciousness III: Imprints of the Fourth Circuit
• Respect for the Dead and the Living
• My Favorite Meditation: Part II